Three Helpers

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We have three helpers.
One is Ray the handyman,
a single guy with a beaten pickup;
he's helping with the gardens
and finish carpentry on parts of the house.
Then there is Alice the caregiver, a single mom;
she bathes Anita, does some small cleaning,
and gives me three hours to myself
three times a week.
Finally, Marcia comes in twice a month
and cleans house, top to bottom for eight hours
because I just can't get to everything
and Anita can't get to much at all from the wheelchair.
And we're lucky;
lucky for a pension that enables us
to hire helpers, lucky to find good help, lucky
to have a home.
I remind myself of that every day.
Even more this month
I have reminded myself of this luck;
Ray disappeared
in the midst of cutting bead-board for the basement stairwell;
alcoholic girlfriend in jail, pickup broke down, barely enough money
to make his rent,
he curled up in bed for two weeks and didn't answer the phone.
He's answering his phone now and working, but we wonder for how long.
Alice doesn't disappear, but instead juggles doctor appointments
for her asthmatic/ADHD daughter, keeps trying
to pry a slacker boyfriend loose from her couch, and now
asks us if we could co-sign a loan on a fifty-grand house,
which will not happen. We like her, but that won't happen.
And Marcia? Marcia shows up at 9 am
every other Thursday,
happy and ready to work
for eight hours without a break,
just a little food in her purse.
She doesn't say much about
her son in Afghanistan, except that
she misses him.
Sometimes, when Anita has turned off the TV and
is asleep in her chair, I hear Marcia humming
as she cleans in the kitchen.
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