Changes

After a recent outing with my dad, I felt prompted to capture imaginations that evoke conflicting emotions. The following comments are not all true, nor are they all fabricated. Dad and I know which are which.

It begins so innocently at first

The occasional incorrect word:
We all do that, right? 
Besides, spoonerisms are funny
I don’t think we’ll be eating Sam hand witches

The same story repeated:
Initially, they come days apart
Then it’s the same story multiple times in one visit
We laugh each time just like it’s the first

 The difficulty moving:
Stubbing his toes as he shuffles across the threshold of his own front door
Shoulders that can no longer salute
Hips that are allergic to hills
So we adjust our excursions

Magical moments stopping to view autumn leaves on the Parkway:
A photo in front of a waterfall
No, you don’t look like you just had a stroke
Searching for red in blankets of brown

A slight swaying off balance —
A rock that jumps out in front of him
Then it's a curb and down he goes
There was a day when he would have caught me if the tables were turned

Laughing when Adirondack chairs become suction cups
Maybe a few stumbles on the lake trail, but no harm
Until trying to keep score while playing corn hole: 
Three holes in a row still doesn't give me 15

But my consecutive tosses weren’t enough to win
He had to match with his own three-in-a-row
Even with rusty, complaining shoulders, he’s still the corn hole champion

More concerns will arise, and this list will grow longer
Until then, we'll play and explore like children
And tell the same stories again and again