Obsolete profession

I have recently realized that my job has become obsolete.

My arms are no longer necessary for a morning hug

or my kitchen with waiting hot cookies made from scratch

or my hand to hold on the walk home from school.

No one needs a ride to practice

or a uniform washed

or some late night editing of a paper overdue.

I have been made obsolete

by late night movies and  Netflix series,

by coffee houses, kitchens of better company.

I have been replaced by BMWs and Audis

and critical, vital, interrupting texts,

a better ping pong table,

more lenient adults.

Made obsolete by a hopefully passing belief,

my runneth-over cup of days past feels almost empty.

3 thoughts on “Obsolete profession

  1. Kathleen Neagle Sokolowski

    Oh this breaks my heart. I’m in the stage where being needed so much can feel hard sometimes… This reminds me to take it all in. You wrote this beautifully.


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