Looking over my mom’s shoulder
while she sat in her chair
with her Toshiba laptop, and
a hummingbird’s beak
was nestled in sugar water
outside the living room window.

Engaged in her game of “Buck Euchre”
while I massaged her stiff neck
with my tired fingers, she
messaged her opponents
“You guys will be lucky to
take one ‘trick’ this round
with the hand I got.”

Her brisk tapping of the keyboard
seemed nearly in sync
with the fierce flickering of
the hummingbird’s wings.

I wondered what it’d be like
if my mom had energy
like a hummingbird everyday—
upbeat and alert,
But I knew that wish was
out of reach. Chemo kept her
house-ridden;
either in her bed or a seat.

“Yes! Ha! Ha! suckers,” my
mom shouted,
“Ben, there’s no way they will beat me.”
I smiled and said,
“You show ‘em, Mom.”