It was one of those days. Bill was cranky because his computer wasn’t working, and I didn’t have time to deal with that because I needed to get us both fed and me to my monthly poetry class. At first, he said he didn’t want lunch. Then, he said he’d have vegetable beef soup. I opened a can for him and fixed myself a sandwich. Then, he said he didn’t want the soup because it didn’t have any beef. I laugh now when I think about this because it reminds me of the old woman in the McDonald’s commercials who asked where the beef was in the hamburgers. I offered to trade Bill his soup for my sandwich. Unfortunately, the sandwich wasn’t cut in half so he could more easily eat it with one hand, and it fell apart, and he decided he didn’t want anything more to eat.
In the midst of all this, the Para transit service arrived to take me to the senior center for my monthly poetry class. I told the driver I didn’t expect to be picked up for another half hour and wasn’t ready to leave. Could she come back? She said she would try. She didn’t return for another hour, and by that time, Bill was happily ensconced in his recliner, surrounded by chocolate and other comforts, and I was pacing the floor, growing more and more frustrated by the minute.
Needless to say, I was late to my poetry class. Everyone else had started the in-class writing activity we usually do at the beginning of the period. The instructor suggested I write about what was frustrating me. What came out was the following poem from How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver.
Before I Leave
He’s cranky, doesn’t want lunch,
then asks for vegetable beef soup.
It has no beef.
I give him my sandwich.
It falls apart.
He gives up on lunch.
As I’m leaving, he’s reclining,
a chocolate in his mouth, a bag of almonds on his lap.
His good arm encircles my neck.
We laugh, as we kiss goodbye.
Now, it’s your turn. Think of something frustrating that happened to you, and share it in the comment field below. If you want, you can write a poem about it. I think you’ll find that writing it out in one form or another is a great way to vent.