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The trip

Posted by markdohle , 01 February 2007 · 42 views

He was told where we were going and why,
His look, communicated confusion mixed with comprehension,
Willing to go along, finally, after a morning of wondering,
What to do if he refused to go, what then, another painful encounter.
In the end, he conceded, went along with me, even cheerful in demeanor.
I strapped him in the caravan, got his seat just right,
And started on our 35 mile journey down Highway 124 towards East Side,
To be his home for a few days while they hopefully fixed his meds,
Which will lead to a diminishment of his extreme suffering.

His love of music often a healing balm, helping in his anxious moments,
Sounds soothing touch his soul, bringing peace and perhaps loving memories;
For in the past he was a Jazz musician, Clarinet his instrument of choice.
He still walks with that swagger that people with soul have,
A flowing walk, jive in its ebb and flow, a dance of sorts, at least for me.

Bob Dylanís new album put into the car player, waiting to see his reactions,
As the beautiful music with it soft melody mixed with Dylanís grating voice
That somehow comes across as beautiful, leading to rest.
His eyes grow distant at first, going back in time perhaps reliving his own moments,
Now long past in deep history, lost to me for a time in contemplation,
When suddenly he laughs at the joy of the drums, harmonica, and guitar
Working their magic on his soul.
Bap bap pada, do pe  du, bap bap pada, he sang along making up sounds,
In sync with the music, rising and falling with the wave, the crescendo of the music,
One with it lighting, up his face, that such a union can bring.

On the way, three times I explained why we were going,
Ok he said, for about 5 minutes, then asked again,
For him the first time, for me not, but ok with it, he was at peace.
We arrived, no wait, test given, forms signed, and he was there for three days,
Perhaps more, but not less.
The people gracious, he responded with love and a smile, charming them all,
Women have a very nice affect on him, bringing out his charm and wit, still not lost.

As I was leaving, he asked me what was going on, I told him,
His eyes widen, and he looked at me and said,
If I had know that I would not have come, but here I am and I will stay.
I promised to see him everyday, bring him Eucharist,
Each night we will call his niece Susan,
Who always calms him down at least for awhile.

Highway 124 is like an old friend now, it curves and hills like old companions,
So intimately do I know them,
This week I will get reacquainted.