"Time out of mind"--one more Thanksgiving prep?

poet Mary Oliver

A few years ago I came across this short poem by Mary Oliver (1935-2019); loved it; memorized it:

When I Was Young and Poor

Mary Oliver

When I was young and poor,

when little was much,

when I was nimble and never tired,

and the hours of the day were deep and long,

where was the end that was already committed?

Where was the flesh that thinned and stiffened?

Nowhere, nowhere!

Just the gift of forgetfulness gracious and kind

while I ran up hills and drank the wind—

time out of mind.

I thought it captured so effectively the way I had begun to feel in my ... "later years." When you're young and vigorous, time is, indeed, "out of mind." You just are. And you will always have the energy to run up hills and drink the wind ...

Except, of course, you won't.

I've been thinking about this the past few days because Joyce and I have decided to give one more year--surely the last?--to the preparation of a family Thanksgiving meal. (The Full Meal Deal.) Our son and his family are coming up--and, yes, they're bringing some side dishes, some pie (!!). But we'll be doing the turkey, the mashed potatoes (though vigorous son Steve will do the actual mashing), the stuffing, the cornbread, the multigrain bread for the meal, the putting out of the dishes and silverware, the ... you know.

We will begin several days ahead of time. In fact, I'm probably going to bake the cornbread this week (both for the stuffing and for direct consumption). We'll set the table, etc. Then, on the Day Of, we will probably just have to do the turkey and the gravy and the potatoes.

And we will both be exhausted--especially me. The days of being "never tired" are long, long gone. Some of the meds I'm on greatly affect my energy, so I will do a lot of napping and resting and avoiding stress and strain as we prepare.

Because, you see, I really want to do this one more time. Who knows what kind of shape we will be in this time next year? I can tell you this: We will not be racing up hills after the meal; we will not be drinking wind. We will not be nimble and quick.

Instead, we will be filled with infinite gratitude for the ability to do this One More Time. We will be thrilled to have been in the company of our family, seated around our table. We will engage in a thanksgiving for all we have, for all we've had.