This is the part of my life
that is not really about me.
In big and small ways,
as I happily carry heavy burdens,
I am the driver, the muscle,
the provider, the silent stalwart.
Taking notes, take out the trash,
accommodate the schedule
to have your breakfast ready,
fixing the broken lightbulb in the bathroom.
Time that's quality,
measured in grandly rings
with the goal to add some quantity,
weighted in heavy things,
like memories and milestones,
mistakes and moments.
None of it can be replaced too small–
I don't need gifts or thanks, just more minutes:
As simple as fixing a broken Lego tower
or helping her get dressed.
These years are not about me,
and I am honored to serve.