Texture of Tenderness

Sometimes I believe

I will never know the heart of an old man,

As I am still learning the edges of mine;

My fluid, mid-life mama heart

Yet when I stand behind

The long haired elder counting change to pay

for 20 frozen hungry man “TV” dinners

I am shown something about

Loneliness at my own dining table

And when I run into my older neighbor

With the brimmed hat, who always walks

his dog in the same direction

and I ask him how he is doing,

and he offers he has “had better months”

when I inquire further into his lone tear

to learn his wife of 39 years has just died

suddenly

I am shown something about

My anticipatory grief about my older spouse,

who might die first

or perhaps if I were to die first

Sometimes I believe

I will never know the heart of an old man,

As I am still learning the edges of mine;

My fluid, mid-life mama heart

Yet when I notice the older man today

biking up the hill on my dog walk

holding tightly to his ballot on his handlebars,

making his way to the voting box,

wearing a helmet, reflective jacket,

pant leg protector

I am shown something about

how we both care about the future,

the future we may never see,

the world for our children’s children

And when another elder opens

the back of his flatbed truck

as I am passing by and whose face does appear?

The full face of a Bernese mountain dog puppy

leaning out, and the elderly man

welcomes a greeting with me & my dog

as if we were already friends

like the girlfriend who just walked

with me this past hour,

his eagerness to connect

mirroring the full face of his puppy

I am shown something about

how I make friends with whomever

Whomever is near and dear,

much like my dog as well

Sometimes I believe

I will never know the heart of an old man,

as I am still learning the edges of mine,

My fluid, mid-life mama heart

yet I spend an afternoon

noticing the hearts of old men

and I come home knowing

the elusive edges of mine a little better

And I believe a little deeper

in the tenderness of hearts of old men

As they show me the new soft textures

at the edges of mine