They came to celebrate Papa’s ninety-fourth 
bearing cards, gifts and sonogram display—
               “baby on the way!”
lying on its back, looking like a gummy bear, 
pinpoint legs and arms in air.

What could be better we say,
thinking back to when we were just two 
who grew three,
and three married three,
who grew seven to become thirteen, 
and together we were fifteen—
then sixteen joined,
now seventeen, an embryo in utero.

We don’t have to look far for signs of age, 
wrinkles, canes, aches, pains,
but you know you’re old
when your first born is social security eligible, 
and your baby is going to be a grandmother.