Distances

For Three Word Wednesday, prompt words banter, duty, element. Inspired by memories of my Papaw (brought on by my parents' recent visit) and Neil Armstrong's passing.

Distances

We laughed at him, shuffling

his feet down the hall, squinting

age-dimmed eyes as if surprised

by the tenacity of life.

His old-timer pace

just would not do

for children of the Space Age,

living in a world made fast

by spark and fuel. He never

walked too far: from bed

to john, to corduroy reclining

chair where he would sit

like a duty fulfilled,

looking at his mangled hands

and marveling at the work

they had once accomplished.

In fine weather he would ride

with us to Lake Tohopekaliga,

choosing the nearest bench

as an observatory. The expanse

of elements and circling flight

of bantering gulls seemed

to satisfy a need for distances—

for though we couldn’t imagine

it he hadn’t always been limited.

We didn’t see him as a boy, striding

tall in the dark furrow,

guiding the team with

gee and haw in Uncle Lanta’s

field; or later, fearful but

resolute, heading to the Reisden’s

to ask Bessie to the dance. Nor

could our little minds

calculate what it took to walk

deep into the earth for

forty years, finding coal

and breathing the dust that

finally laid him down.

We saw only a slow old

man, so earth-rooted

that he was sure the lunar

landing was a stunt;

but in the sum

of his small steps I

reckon he traveled

broad distances, each step

one giant leap.