Senility

One evening, while staying with my parents,
I walked into the kitchen to find my father
Stacking newly washed dishes in the microwave.
Dad?
"Yes, son?"
What are you doing?
He turned and looked at me--
His mouth slightly agape,
His eyes bewildered and sad--
Then at the plates in the microwave,
And finally at the one in his hand.
"Oh."
I wanted to embrace him,
But instead I watched without a word
As he picked up the plates in the microwave,
And ever so carefully, so as not to drop them,
Carried them, and placed them in the cabinet.
Never was I so proud to be my father's son.