Ribs with Dad

Ribs 

Three days ago dad could barely

Muscle down a spoonful of Jello.

So imagine my surprise when 

I was sitting with him motor-boarding 

Some barbeque baby back ribs.

Ok, I was motor-boarding,

Dad was merely nibbling. 

 

His revival of late has us all bemused.

He hasn’t been able to taste food

For the better part of the last month,

Then, abracadabra, out of the clear blue

His palate can detect and distinguish flavor

Restoring the pleasure of eating

and with it, his absent appetite.

 

Even his eyes sparkle with life,

Like a pilot light has turned back on

Restoring ignition to the furnace

And heat to the rest of his house,

the body senses a new surge of power

giving warmth to each starving member.

 

After his courageous attempt at

Conquering a rack of ribs,

he thought better of it

and turned his gaze to a bowl of stew,

chicken pot pie from Panera.

Within 5 minutes he shoveled in

Every spoonful of that succulent soup,

As giddy as Esau resigning his birthright. 

 

After weeks of straining to speak

Even a few words into the arid air,

His mouth is producing saliva again

Allowing him to engage in dialogue,

Volleying thoughts back and forth

With his shuttlecock of badminton banter.

 

Seizing upon this new lease of life

We plan to throw ourselves headlong

Into the Syracuse game tonight.

March Madness is a rich pastime for us

Harkening back to days of whimsy,

Hooting and hollering for the Orange

To overcome all odds

Lifting our hearts with a small win.

 

Small wins. I’m celebrating each one these days.