My son and his family traveled far.
First to visit his wife’s parents, siblings.
In Montreal and Stowe.
Where they toppled, one by one.
From flu.
GI virus.
Dehydration.
Vomiting.
Sneezing.
Congestion.
The next destination, Philadelphia.
To see us.
We weren’t sure if they’d make it here.
Though they did arrive on a lovely day.
My husband’s late mother’s birthday.
To blooming cherries.
Tulips, pansies.
Greening trees.
Whistling, trilling birds.
Arms of another set of grandparents.
A nine-year-old cousin.
New toys and games.
Another table to dine upon.
Another place to sleep.
All was going well.
The children put to bed.
Parents, too, prepared to lay.
When screams inspired dread.
Ezra, four, threw up his meal.
From illness or anxiety?
No one really knew for sure.
Just a bit disquieting.
As I write, we still don’t know
for the night is long and dark.
The verdict’s in the early morn
when from bed, they disembark.
Lynn Benjamin
April 20, 2023
