When it's close to time to leave, I offer to read it again. I've
just fed my wife a chocolate; she's surprisingly enthusiastic.
She perks up at the Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
She loves to hear about lying down in green pastures,
and being led beside the still waters.
 
The familiarity of having her soul restored and being led
in the paths of righteousness brings a smile to her thin lips.
She looks resigned during the trying trip through the valley
of the shadow of death, where she fears no evil as the rod
and staff comfort her. She is in another world.
 
I modify where a table is prepared for her—I skip the part about
enemies because I can't imagine her having any. She seems to love
that a table is prepared for her and that her cup runneth over.
As I finish, telling her that goodness and mercy shall follow
her all the days of her life, she seems completely relaxed.
 
I motion to the aide that it's time to roll her into the dining room.
The woman says my wife gets fussy after lunch, that I should feed
her a few less chocolates, and I quickly concur. As the aide rolls her
into the residents-only dining room, she is smiling as I leave.
With help from King David and King James, I've left her refreshed.


© by Kevin Arnold.
Used with the author's permission.