Pay Attention

I’ve concluded (after more than seven decades)

            the most important decision I ever made

            is worth telling you now so you,

            in this foggy dislocation of your life,

            might not miss the whole thing:

            Pay Attention. Pay attention. Pay Attention.

Notice every sand hill crane. Notice that your friend

has lost ten pounds.  Don’t pitch into the wastebasket

the thingy whose purpose you do not understand

            because someone else might be a little cranky about it.

            Call every sibling or in-law to see how they are faring.

            Listen carefully to their lives: how long her hair is,

            whether she is still using the library that delivers books

            to the retirement community.  Did his description

            of that small dark blemish worry the doctor?

            Praise brethren who are proud of their accomplishments

            even if you think they made a grievous mistake.

Check on how your neighbor is doing.

Is there enough food for everyone in your town? 

            Be joyful that the daffodils are brighter this year

            than you ever remember.  Decide you won’t avoid

            that cranky one whose path crosses yours.

            Being out of ice cream is not worth complaining about. 

            Attempt to let go of despising people on motorcycles

            who don’t wear face masks when they stop for a beer. 

            Maybe their mothers didn’t teach them good manners. 

Please renew my faith.  Help me believe in tomorrow.

I want to marvel at every posy instead of resenting weeds.

            Remind me to pluck not that which it is not mine to pluck. 

            Cut slack. Open your palm to give to others even if they’re

            not giving anything to you.  Let go of expecting green stamps

            as a reward.  Recall that time I asked my dearest one  

            to proceed to the next gas station because this one

            doesn’t give Green Stamps.  Remember: all of us

            are human. Be glad, be glad.  Try to love it all.

Cynthia and Al Johnson moved to Door County in 1995. 

“We’re not natives, but we sure are locals.  Our hearts are here.”

Cynthia almost feels like a retired minister, but not quite.