Here’s what I remember: it wasn’t at first sight,
owing to the burdens of loss we both carried,
and owing to the complications (me, already a father,
her, already a mother), instead it was the last sight,
or rather, the sight after many sights;
which came after our first talks, like tiptoeing over stones,
and after the ecclesiastical courts (the occasional unblessing),
and after some counsellor’s warning: how could we, how would we,
weave our history, our disparity, into the already formed
but frayed garments of our lives?
…yet, soon, the ballooning phone bills,
the relief of shared grief, the once-withering hope
fireworks-ing into flights of affection,
the pouring into each other, the releasing
of our own conditioning and trusting
the reception of friends,
the understanding of sisters and brothers;
and suddenly, the many sights became the first sight,
and I saw her,
standing like a fountain,
a crystal tree, backlit in blue and green,
and shimmering;
and I saw her in that red dress, in her Buick Skylark,
window down, her head, a half turn,
a smile, a wave, a certainty;
our hands, palms touching and fingers twined, grew happy,
our gaze, spanning country and city, built a home,
our eyes — now reflecting thousands of sunsets —
not always synchronous, but willing;
now we hike with walking sticks, we watch,
give each other space, but don’t wander too far up the shore
without the other;
we use electric bikes, we travel smooth, broad, trails,
we round tight, difficult, bends,
one leads, now the other;
she texts me from the far end of Super Store,
we meet at the checkout counter like secret lovers,
we forget the almond milk, but not each other;
our quarrels are mellow now, we fight with the assurance
of knowing we’ll stick around, pick it up another day,
we seldom do;
we’re on our way to become a toddling old couple,
we’ll make quaint appearances at family reunions,
recall, for each other, the names of children;
we sit silently on driftwood …longer,
we pause under cedar and coastal fir …longer,
we get slightly lost hiking above the Koksilah river,
we could overnight, she’s thought ahead, brought snacks;
our lives have taken on a compressed, mystical, quality,
each morning she asks, Sweetheart, what’s important today?
so now every day is her birthday, every day, our anniversary;
our hearts beat on, they beat softer,
but the rhythm is stronger,
chances are they won’t stop together,
but however that goes,
of course, they will.
Sighing happily
Waving from Norway
Nina Martins Hlavaty
Waving back! Thank you, Nina.
Thank you for transporting your own love into our hearts . We hear you and we recognize that this love floats around all of us, waiting for us to notice and allow it in
I love that thought, Ananda! Thank you!
Lovely tribute to Deb! This is how every tottering old couple should view their precious memories. Thanks Steve.
Thank you, Beth!
Oh, this is beyond beautiful. Deb is certainly a lucky woman.
Stephen, I usually read your poems in spurts, a reprieve from my hectic schedule and burdens at work. I don’t always leave a comment, but search for the appropriate words, being a bit jealous that I cannot convey emotions and ideas that way that you do. Just know that your poetry is a salve for my soul, and I appreciate your generous sharing of your writing.
Thank you, Diane! I so appreciate that!
What a stunning tribute to Deb and go the beautiful relationship that you share. So grateful to have you both in our lives!
Thank you so much, Melanie! The sentiment is mutual.
Agh, beautiful! Tender, funny, and soaked with many a “yes, of course!” Aging brings many gifts. Happy birthday, Deb.
That means a lot, thank you, Karen! And you’re right about aging.
Ahhh, Stephen, a soft sigh as I read this tribute to tender love. Thanks for using your words and your heart to share it.
And thank you, Kirk! You encourage and inspire.
Beautiful depiction of a life entwined with love, care and blessings.
Aging well….
Thank you so much, Cathy!
Beautiful sentiment, in words of grounding love
for your own darling
love
and cause for celebration, indeed!
Happy Birthday Wishes to your Deb
a lovely saving grace
found in mutual
attentions <3 <3
Tamara, Thank you!
Beautiful words, Steve, and a Happy Birthday to Deb!!
(And I hope Erika doesn’t read this and want something like it!)
Thank you, Sam. 🙂