The marker

our parents had war as marker in time
we used family holidays as such,
and wars, those too, though not as much, would give
our memory more appropriate and
clear images of memorable days.
as reference of a book we had read;
a new cat coming, or an old one dead.

‘yes that was right after the heat wave there,
in belgium, in the ardennes, remember.’
‘the year you bought that hat was when we were
in england. that museum! the hand!’ laughter.
and when the war in bosnia kept us
awake we said bedtime rhymes to the boys.
that was then. nights without sleep. together.

when you got cancer, that whole year, we stayed
at home and I don’t recall of any
war but the fight that went on inside of
your body. time had stopped, was precious
and we filled it. laughter. sleepless nights. books.
and now all is marked as the time after
that day, the funeral, the first year so.


Comments on: "The marker" (8)

  1. So very poignant, and beautifully written, Ina. ❤️

  2. Of such markers are memories made

  3. So moving always. The discrete sadness and celebration of a life and shared companionship are powerful indeed. My thoughts are always with you on this subject

  4. tears, laughter, courage, love, passings, memories…

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