by Joan Leotta
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I’m supposed to drive to Raleigh, 2.5 hours from here and stay in a hotel alongside a creek that sometimes floods (as does the creek behind my house), to immerse myself in a sea of poety. All of these plans could be swept away by the winds and water of the pending hurricane. So, why do I still plan? Life had taught me all can change sooner than the weatherman predicts, sooner than my doctor thinks. In an instant, crossing the street, or stumbling on a sidewalk crack, a new virus, waiting at a bus stop shopping in my favorite grocery Someone’s car, my clumsiness, germs, someone’s gun fueled anger, all of these can take me to the “other side.” I know because my son was hit by a car on a night he had plans, so as I plan, I add, God Willing, Deo Volante, to my notes, knowing all could end now but not worrying because once I step to that other side, there will be loved ones who await me there.
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Joan Leotta. Author, Story Performer
Such a poignant and tender poem