Sweet Potato Pie
November 7th, we’re having sweet potato pie
with lots of whip cream, the way Hubby likes it.
It may be unhealthy, but like most people,
we celebrate with food. We’re celebrating four years
of my husband surviving his second stroke.
They affected the pons region of the brain
in the upper part of the brain stem.
The doctor said he had a 20% chance of survival,
but didn’t tell us until after he had survived.
I miss his singing voice, my favorite,
second only to Neil Diamond.
Now, he sounds more like the godfather,
but even that’s becoming dear to me.
I still jump when I hear his sneezes,
which sound like a snarling bobcat.
Thank you for his laughter and tears,
(also a new thing since the strokes).
The doctor described it
as a broken emotional thermostat.
But it sounds like music to me
when he comes down the hallway
pushing his walker, giggling.
Now, I know when he's touched by a good movie
or a sermon because he cries,
not just a tear or two, full-on weeping.
Thank you that though his body is broken,
he can still do finances on his computer.
Though he can't unclog a drain,
splice an electrical cord,
or put a bolt in a chair,
he can tell me how to do it.
He still memorizes scripture better than I can.
Thank You that he can walk with a walker,
bathe himself in the walk-in tub,
and talk, though still somewhat garbled.
I love it when he stands and hugs me,
though I have to prop him up a bit.
Thank You for the gift of four years.
And sweet potato pie.
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