The Garden of Elder Care

Green lush summer is upon us. But, even as we sit in the shade of the backyard a few yellow leaves fall. A reminder.
We bask in the shade. The alley is hot. My car is impossible to sit in, but the back yard provides solace, shade and rest. It is Shabbat.
I lay on the little couch and doze as my parents sit across from me. My dad reads from the Grapes of Wrath. The New Yorker, Time magazine and various cups are strewn across the table.

Suddenly a little kitty runs by and up a tree as our neighbors poodle chases after it. Up the tree looking scared. Dad looks up and then gives me his commentary about old age. That he feels he is up there on some limb, with no way down. It is refreshing to hear his commentary about old age...and then he says nothing. My mother worries about her anxieties and then asks big questions about life, death and her unresolved Jewish questions.
I hear an opera singer nearby... singing and singing an aria. It could be me singing that aria...the one sung by a daughter as she passionately looks after her parents as they fall into the throes of old age.. Her aria is sweet and deep...but what can she say as the yellow leaves fall and time moves on.