“Go ahead. Get it.” small voice says.

“Huh?”

“Get it,” small voice repeats.

“I thought you were here to guide me 

to enlightenment, not to suggest purchases, ” I say.

“It’s perfect for you,” small voice says,

pointing to the Mother’s Day card.

“Ask your son to stop by and sign it.”

“Mothers don’t buy their own Mother’s Day cards

and get their children to sign them.” I say.

“It’s perfect,” small voice says pointing to the card

of a woman getting a traffic ticket 

and saying to the bored looking cop,

“Oh, kiss my !@#!.”

“Look inside,” small voice says.

Unsure whether I’m to look inside myself

or inside the card, I pick the card.

It says,” Mom, you’ve always had a way with words.”

“Small voice, I’m going to have to report you

to your superior, ” I say.

Small voice grins.

                                                                                                                      JDG

“I think I’m beginning to see something,” I say.

“Hmm,” the small voice says.

“I spend a lot of time wishing and I wish I didn’t.”

The small voice smiles as I catch myself.

“When you’re not wishing, what’s left?” the small voice asks.

“Just me and the world.”

“Just?” the small voice says.

I get quiet. “And… ” I struggle for words. “And 

somehow things slow down and…”

“And?” the small voice says.

I take a deep breath. “And yet I still seem to have plenty of time.”

“Ah,” says the small voice, “you’re beginning to see.”

                                                                                                                                                      JDG

“This not wishing is going to be the undoing of me,” I say.

That’s the idea,” says the small voice.

“Huh?’

“Undoing is the idea, remember?”

“But I thought the idea was to set aside wishing.

You keep upping the ante.”

“Pardon the pun,

but you’re  way past due for an undo.” 

“Past due?” I ask.

“Hon,” the small voice says, “You’re seventy-two.

Holding on is what you always do.”

“I’m scared if I let go, I’ll lose my grip on reality,” 

“You have to lose your grip 

to find reality,” the small voice says.

“Riddles upon riddles.

They are going to be the undoing of me.”

“Yes,”the small voice says, smiling.

                                                                                                                                JDG

“Not wishing is hard,” I say.

“True.” says the small voice.

“Well, couldn’t I just start somewhere else?” I ask.

“That’s wishing in disguise,” smiles the small voice.

“You don’t have to be so darn cheerful about it,” I say.

“Wishing in disguise again. It’s surprising,

isn’t it, to discover the many faces wishing has.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I mutter, 

“and don’t say that’s wishing in disguise.”

“Well, maybe just a semi-disguise,” the small voice says.

“Is anything other than an unqualified ‘yes’ 

a form of wishing?” I ask.

“Good question,”says the small voice. “Bears pondering.”

“This is going to take longer than I thought,” I say.

“Yes,” says the small voice. “That’s why wishing is a good place to start.”

“What if all the undoing I do begins and ends right here?”

“Then you would have made an excellent beginning

and an excellent ending,” the small voice says.

“You talk in riddles,” I say, “but you’ve made me curious.”

                                                                                                                                                   JDG

“I don’t know where to begin,”

I say, “There’s so much.”

“Let’s begin slow,” the small voice says.

“Every day leave one small thing behind.

What can you set aside today?”

“I’ll have to think,” I say.

“Only big things like hurry and worry come to mind.

I wish I’d started sooner.”

“Maybe you could begin there,” the small voice suggests.

“Where?”

“With the wishing for what isn’t or wasn’t,” says the small voice.

“That doesn’t seem small.”

” True, but it’s what’s here now and it’s a start.”

“All right, I’ll start with what’s here now,” I say, 

wishing I had come up with something else –

like broccoli or…

whoops, let me set that wish aside and begin.

                                                                                                                                                               JDG

“It’s time,” the small voice whispers.

“You’ve put it off long enough.”

“What?” I ask.

“You know full well, ” the small voice says.

“You must begin to know empty. 

Now is the ‘un’ time of your life

when the doing involves undoing,

when you unpack and one by one

you let things go.”

“But I’m not ready,” I say.

“We’re never ready,” the small voice says,

“Still, let’s begin. I will help you.”

                                                                                                           JDG