“Crunching Numbers”

All the monthly numbers line up as pretty as can be.   

Adding and subtracting, calculating effortlessly.   

  Projecting into the future, making a studied plan.   

  Predicting misadventures—like when the shit hits the fan.   

  The broken pipe that floods the house, and then the leaking roof   

  join up with the shredded tire, and united stand in proof   

  that budgets act as guidelines, and can’t always be obeyed.   

  The surprising ups and downs of Life just get in the way.   

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Pledge to Honor”

four walls   

         love, duty, responsibility, need   

                     box me into near solitude   

pressed by decisions   

         I bare this weight without grace   

                     floundering   

the brace of your love   

         supports me   

                     alone I will fail   

with three   

                     I can survive   

longingly, I look to our past   

         ache for its loss   

I fear today   

I dread tomorrow   

         trying to fulfill my pledge to honor   

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Thinking Too Much"

My thoughts     

swirl and whirl into a tornado of confusion   

rolling over the landscape of my life   

sweeping up debris   

into the vortex   

flinging order into chaos   

roaring and thundering with unexpected velocity   

leaving destruction     

discouraging hope   

exploding my world with reckless carelessness   

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Sometimes"

sometimes the sun shines, oh, so bright, and sometimes the air is               sweet and clear   

sometimes my world glistens and glows, and sometimes the future feels so near   

then one day the sun doesn’t shine; one day the air is closed and too hot   

then one day my world's dull and dim; one day the future that was, is not   

I cannot cry for lost sunshine, and I cannot long for cool, sweet air   

I cannot see the world I know, and I cannot touch the future bare   

so I dream of gold lights of warmth; I dream of breezes in the dark night  
so I dream of my life's freedom; I dream of magic futures of light  

  

Perfect day in Leakey, Texas!

Copyright 1976 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

I wrote this poem when I was still in high school. It's one of my favorites because it reflects the optimism in which I've tried to view life..

“The Difference of a Day”

         It amazes me how much can change in a short period of time. Adjusting my mother’s melatonin dosage a couple of days ago made an immediate improvement in her thinking. Yesterday, she woke up and asked to get dressed right away. As I pulled on a flowered top, Mom wanted to know the time of her doctor’s appointment.

         “Oh, Mom, that’s not until Monday. Today’s Friday. Do you still want to get dressed? I have some errands to run today, and if you want to you can go with me.”

         “Yes!”

         Before we left the house, Mom had to select a hat to wear from her favorites. I suggested the Spurs cap because they could use her extra luck after their loss. She debated over the summer lace hat I brought back from Ireland, but her sporty black-and-white checkered hat won.

         A couple of days ago, Mom didn’t recognize me. She kept begging me to take her “home.” She said she didn’t know or trust me. Yesterday, she commented as we ran our errands that she wanted to go by the assisted living center where she lived for two years.

         “I want to stop for a cup of tea,” she insisted as we drove by the place.

         I completed my task quickly and pulled into the driveway of Esplanade Gardens. Mom swung her feet to the concrete before I had her wheelchair in place.

         As soon as we entered, we encountered Mom’s favorite aide, Betty. The activities director took Mom into the exercise room to visit with several residents while I moved the car into a parking slot. By the time I returned, Mom was laughing at something JoAnne, one of the employees who worked in the dining room, had said as she served Mom her hot cup of tea. Robert, the head chef, returned from his break to visit a few minutes. Eventually, Mom’s other favorite aide, Christina, sat down for a long chat.

         A couple of days ago, my mother couldn’t recognize me. Now, she smiled broadly in recognition of men and women she hadn’t seen in at least a year.

         Huntington’s disease humbles me. It makes me grab ahold of each good day and recognize the pricelessness of a smile that touches the eyes, of laughter that bubbles up and over.  

 Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman