Shirley Pearson is a freelance writer and editor. Her first job out of high school was with Sears, writing copy for their Big Book. She has continued to write for many publications over the years, taking awards for her stories and poetry. For the past 27 years Shirley has led writing groups and was head of PR for ElderCollege at Terra State College in Ohio. Currently she is working on two books and writes poetry as her muse allows. A widow, Shirley’s two cats, her elderly father, daughter, granddaughters and great grandchildren keep her busy.
Dad And I – Oh Horrors!
We may not always agree on things
In fact, often we do not.
We cannot discuss a number of things;
Politics, religion and several minor issues
We have nothing in common, you and I.
Your wife was my mother,
Your other daughter my sister,
And your sons are my brothers.
And yet I try to spend time with you,
Sharing a meal, talking of old times,
Listening to you speak of how important
You weren’t ‘there’ much as a father,
Or as a husband to my mother.
I guess you thought you were, but
She loved you anyway.
Now I am well into my senior years
And one hundred is breathing
Down your neck.
Widowed and widower, we.
Nothing in common really and
Yet we are talking of combining
Our living space.
Oh horrors! What’s wrong with me?
I learned it at my mother’s knees.
You take care of what is yours,
Like it or not;
Good or bad.
And yes, I love you, Dad.