A Poem For Thursday

Owen's dad has been sending me books. The first one arrived in the mail room at work. I got an email from reception telling me to please pick up my mail. I don't get mail at work so I was confused. I still confused when I unwrapped the package to find a book. The only clue as to who bought it was the email in the order form. Yesterday another arrived. It's The Niagara River by Kay Ryan. One poem in particular has been following me around since I read it.

Things Shouldn't Be So Hard
Kay Ryan

A life should leave
deep tracks:
ruts where she
went out and back
to get the mail
or move the hose
around the yard;
where she used to
stand before the sink,
a worn-out place;
beneath her hand
the china knobs
rubbed down to
white pastilles;
the switch she
used to feel for
in the dark
almost erased.
Her things should
keep her marks.
The passage
of a life should show;
it should abrade.
And when life stops,
a certain space—
however small—
should be left scarred
by the grand and
damaging parade.
Things shouldn't
be so hard.