back seat non-driver

in the back seat of my brother’s car

i, who nearly always am the driver,

got to peer up between stands of trees

and along the hilltop to the low

mountains layered behind them

trace the curves of tractor furrows

where the farmer followed

the contours of his land

all the delights a driver may not

allow her focus to remain on

as she steers from town

through wooded corridors

and farm communities

on the way to foggy coast

how i love my brother and sister (-in-law and -in-love)

who have always quietly done for me

things i could not do for myself

espresso icing

see the humor in the twist

when what you expected

turns out to have its own kick

his gift nearly ready

garage swept and empty shelved

for the first time in decades

a self-cleaning oven needing foam

and elbow grease because its door

would not latch

a bed board and TV stand too heavy

for me to move to my apartment

we are finally down to so few items

the rhododendrons tense

to bursting into riotous blossom

the view across Willamette Valley

to the snow-capped Cascade peaks

celebrates sunny days of clarity and awe

so nearly ready to let go

of the home my Earl gave me

in his loving generosity