My mother’s continued survival is a blessing
that I take for granted.
I should not.
She’s already survived my father by four years
and promises to continue this trend for some time.

I spend good time with her
but I don’t know if I express how appreciative I am.

I certainly do not when she’s yelling at me
to slow down on the road.
Then, I wish her an early stroke
so her tongue stops wagging
– but those are isolated instants.

More frequently, I wish her well,
but I don’t know how much I say it.
Perhaps there’s a way to say it to her.
But that might be too much to expect
of a grown son.
Who can say?