An Ode to Nursing.

I don’t practice you anymore.

I don’t practice you anymore but your practice shadows me every day.

The way I stack my tasks. And fold the towels.

Check on my people. Know what ails them and who their favorite aunt is.

Not a stranger, but a responsibility. A soul. A body. A family member, to someone.

And make the bed.

A cough or a symptom. Another pillow or a prescription.

Swaddle, feed, rock, soothe. My little baby. Her little baby.

It would be a good time to call her favorite aunt.

Pain medicine before physical therapy. Dessert before the heartbreak.

And hold the hand.

Another day, another goal to be achieved. There is a process to get there.

Another day, following the process. Another goal achieved, another day closer to healing.

And hope. For the miracle.

See I don’t practice you anymore, but your practice changed me. Made me. Who I am and how I am. When I fold the towels, or when I hear a cough.

Hope for my blood or the neighbor I just met next door. Because no strangers. But a responsibility. A soul. A body. A family member, to someone. Me.

See I don’t practice you anymore, but you practice in me.

And care.