Dashing through 100 miles of snow
To meet the family at the megamall.
It’s expected, after all, to eat and shop, 
To celebrate good fortune among
Displays of pretty and impractical. Why not? 
Icy roads, cars in ditches on both sides.
We’re nervous, but we’re fortunate: Four-wheel drive. 
Guided by Google, we find our way.
Then must try to navigate the mall without. 
After we arrive, I contemplate a roller coaster ride 
so I can scream without alarming anyone.
Fortunate to have texting. Family finds us.
One-hour wait to be seated. I think, can Mom just
Find a bar and have a beer? You know, to get
In the mood, the Christmas spirit. 
Mom, can you take the baby for a while?
They were hesitant to ask. She’s fussy from teething, 
but this I can do. Aging knees aching, I bounce
And jiggle. Slowly, she’s soothed. A little giggle 
midst the drool—hers, not mine. Not yet. 
Later, they’re back with several bags. 
So fortunate to find exactly what someone
Wants in 5.6 million square feet of mall.
Then we’re seated in the restaurant.
But I don’t give the baby back. She’s warm and
Sleepy. I’m fortunate. And I no longer need a beer.
                        

If I were steeped in age, could Armageddon
Rage forth so violently to make a blip inside
My brain – whatever brain remained to ask,
“What’s all the fuss?” Likely not, as I’ll be
Basking in forgetfulness by then and an
Awareness of the perennially predicted end
Will not emerge. Awareness, as you know,
Became the bane of our existence when
Our innocence was eaten like an apple. 
So, in aging, off it goes, like clothes 
We should never have put on.