I stayed at my parent’s house the day
before Mom’s surgery.
At midnight there was a storm—
hard rain and lightning.
I awakened and thought, This
storm is our life. Here we are, walking into
the storm.

The prayers had been said
and my mother’s forehead still wore
the anointing oil—
I don’t want to do this, she kept saying.
My brave words, and our future
were drowned out with the thunder.

Back home, days later, I cut
all the hydrangea
blossoms from the bush she
gave this year for my birthday.
I want to save them and remember
how it was that afternoon—how she smiled
and we sang hymns,
sitting at the dining room table,
her face was soft and
beautiful, as we waited
for what would happen next.

—Joanne Lehman, Apple Creek, Ohio, has had essays and poems published in local newspapers, literary magazines, and religious and rural life publications. Lehman and her husband Ralph have two grown children and four grandchildren.

From Morning Song (Kent, Ohio: Kent State University Press, 2005).
Published here by permission, all rights reserved.