My ninety-year-old cousin begged to go outdoors.
She could see the sun slanting sideways.
Just outside the window.
She had been inside too long.
First, in two ER cubicles.
Undergoing procedures to reaffix leg to hip.
That is, to push the ball back into its socket.
After it slipped out during sleep.
Days later, transferred back to the residence.
Where she recently moved in.
But, not to her usual room.
To a convalescent wing.
Can we go outside? she asked a second time.
It was disappointing as much for me as for her.
Having to explain that heat laid heavy like a weighted blanket.
Maple leaves and ferns turned orange, burned from high temperatures.
Squirrels and chipmunks sought shade.
Frogs stayed submerged in ponds.
Bees moved in desultory circles.
Finches and robins were nowhere to be seen.
Even cicadas went silent.
Too hot to drum for rain.
So, we remained inside.
Moving to a corner away from her room.
A small change of scene.
Where we could reminisce about trips.
For my cousin was well traveled.
Her memory sharp for details.
Asking to see my summer photos.
From the Netherlands, Maine.
Commenting on each.
Saying she loved to look at photos.
Unlike many people she knew.
So, we passed the time
inside rather than out.
I marveled at her attitude
despite the heat, the drought.
Hoping I could, too, one day
be good tempered and so kind
when reverses pile up,
and I find myself confined.
Lynn Benjamin
September 9, 2023
