The Miracle Meatball

This is my father-in-law and me.  
Everyone should get to meet him.  
A couple months ago, 
he moved into a nursing home.  
It's been a hard change, 
though he doesn't say that.  
He mostly says please and thank you, 
and mostly thank you.  
In the evening, when I can, 
I go visit him and I feed him his dinner.  
Few things could do more to remind me 
of the sweet miracle of life 
than to feed an old armless man 
his favorite meal of the day.  
Tonight, I also gave him a fresh shave and haircut, 
and then covered his head and face 
with his favorite smelly lotion. 
Then we sat and listened to Christmas music, 
and said nothing, 
except every now and then he would say, "That's nice."

Every day, we all need to find someone 
who can use the kind of love we can give, 
and then give it.  If we're lucky, 
it won't require more than a spoonful of meatballs.  

On my way out to my car it was raining.  
It hasn't done that in a month.  
I just stood there and said thank you.