I have an early memory
Of a warm washcloth on my face
Telling me to “Rise and shine
Wake up, buttercup, make haste”
It, also, reminds me that once
When I was a young nurse
Before feeding my patients
That warm washcloth came first
And all those babies’ butts
No cold wipes would do
It was warm water and a soft cloth
To see the job though…
Ah, and the thoughtful oshibori
To accompany a meal
What a wholesome gesture
And a lovely feel
But, alas, times are changing
No such greeting in hospitals now
Baths aren’t daily, linens aren’t changed
Unless they’re really foul
And when mom was in the elder’s home
The staff were always in a tizzy
Unable to worry about a warm wash cloth
They were way too busy
They’d point me to the linen closet
Which was always bare
So I crocheted mom a set
Remembering her love and care
And this morning I whispered
As I scrubbed my face
“Rise and shine, buttercup,
Life’s too short to waste”
(c) bjbeyers 4/2020
barb j beyers 