There is a market in our town.
It's set up only once a week.
The people come from miles around
To buy and sell and just to seek
A feeling of a bygone day
When markets were a meeting place.
I took my Mom to sit and watch
To help slow down our life's fast pace.
The trapeze is a thrill to watch.
I ask Mom if she'd like to try.
"No thanks", she laughs but never says
I am too old to learn to fly.
We talk about the horse she had
So many, many years ago.
I say she could go for a ride.
Again she laughs but then says, "No".
We watch the kids jump up and down
In bungees on a trampoline.
She laughs once more but only says,
"To do that son, I'm just not keen".
When we come to a stand with fruit
I see her interest start to rise
As peaches, plums and cherries red
Become reflected in her eyes.
"These cherries are my favorite",
She says as she starts to dig in.
There is no time for laughter now.
There's barely even time to grin.
As we move on I start to shake
Because I know what lies ahead.
When choosing pastries or her life
My mother would choose to be dead.
Mom pulls me to them with such force
I have to strain to hold her back.
She laughs and then I do give in
And buy a treat we both attack.
"Thanks Doug", she says, "That was so good.
To that I always will agree.
Our time together was well spent.
Today I bought a memory.