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Writer's pictureJean Davis

Old Folks at Home

I sat at the kitchen table and took a picture of the redbud in our backyard. I intended to post the photo on Facebook with the caption of “Something else I’ve found to do: watching the redbud bloom.”


“I’m watching the grass dry,” my husband said. His task was more productive than mine. Once the grass was dry, he would mow it, but first he had to go to the gas station to get gasoline for the mower. We sat at the table a while longer, looking at each other.

“It’s hard to get motivated,” he said.

“I understand. Look at me, making bread.” I had talked about making bread for days.

He looked at the clock. 11:30. “I’ve missed my morning nap.”

“Me, too,” I said. He was joking. I wasn’t.

By 3:00, I had made a beautiful loaf with the one packet of yeast I found in the cabinet, and he had mowed the two acres. He planned to do the trimming the next day, but that wasn’t advisable with the lightening and a downpour that morning.


Our grandson texted to ask if Papa and I were working on any projects. Some of us, when we are old, are shocked when we find our get-up-and-go has gotten up and skedaddled. We never know what tomorrow holds. Enjoy the strength of your youth. Make the most of it. But we’re finding time, finally, to watch the redbuds bloom and smell the proverbial roses. Lovely fragrance, those roses. It shouldn’t be much longer before they bloom.



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