Enduring 2020

She lifts her left foot slowly, moving forward

Steadily, if only by six inches. This

Is how she gets to Foodland every Thursday,

Senior discount day.

 

She is as tiny as the gray weeds growing

Along the curb. I fear even a light wind

Will nudge her off balance, yet her steps are sure,

Her eyes fixed ahead.

 

Her thin white hair is tied in a same kerchief

As she has worn on this trek for fifty-six

Years, ever since her now late husband refused

Her driving lessons.

 

“It is not that far” she tells herself, walking

Down Luluku Road, mask on and bag handy.

I once offered her a ride, but she shook her

Head, with a vague Chinese

 

Accent, “No. I like walk dis way. I stay safe.”

As I return from her same destination,

I see her still waiting to cross Kam highway

Wondering if the light

 

Will give her enough time to cross. It does not,

But drivers wait. No horns. No yells. Her head down

She progresses. She progresses, enduring

As all of us have.