"The Caregiver" by Deanie LaChance

The Caregiver 1

My dog leans against my left leg
Staring up at me intently
Willing me to go outside and play 

His whole body pulses
A rhythm against my thigh
Not now, I say 

He knows the nurse is here
To tend to my husband
He knows I have a few minutes off 

I don’t want to look after you, I say
He tilts his head sideways
Try to understand, I plead with a dog 

I only have this time
Once a week
These are my minutes 

Minutes to find my rhythm
To find the thing that I want so intently
I will stare down the world to get it 

His eyes insist it’s his turn
So, I walk to the back door
To go outside and play

***

The Caregiver 2

I position my chair to catch the morning light
And much as my head reminds me to get busy
I am watching the dust motes that are floating
In the light from my study window 

No direction, no aim, no next thing to do
Waiting to be buffeted by my inhales and exhales
Forwards. Backwards. Because another has breathed
Moving because another has moved 

I am like the dust motes, suspended in my chair
Not moving until you cause me to move
Hoping for you to inhale again so that I can exhale
Being buffeted, then hanging, waiting, floating 

Inhale. Exhale. Hanging in air 

I am relating to dust motes 

I am relating to dust motes 

***

Deanie LaChance lives in Peterborough, Ontario. She worked as a high school English teacher, and then as a mental health counsellor. Now she is enjoying this stage of life where she can spend her time and energy developing her creativity. 

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