Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Never



When I was a little girl, I asked my mother

How I would know when I had found my soul mate.

She took me into her lap and said,

"My sweet girl, you will just know.

You will get butterflies in your tummy when you look at them.

And you will want to be around them

because they make everything more fun.

They will make you laugh and laugh,

and they will take care of you

like we do now…

so that when we aren't here anymore,

you will still be happy."

I thought about this for a minute,

Nuzzled my head in the crook of her neck,

And stared at the open doorway, deep in thought.

I was still hard for me to understand…

A concept I did not think my young mind

Could wrap around.

 

Then my father walked in.

Up against my ear,

I could hear Mommy's heart beat

a few thumps faster.

On my forehead, I felt her cheek grow warm…

and flush rosy pink.

He paused just inside the door, and smiled at

the two of us.

"The two most beautiful girls in the world,

sitting in my house…" he said.

"How did I ever get so lucky?"

I heard the quiet crinkle sound of Mom's lips

as they pulled up into a grin,

And when I looked up at Dad, his blue eyes

were dancing.

Leaning over, he kissed Mom on the lips,

then me on the forehead,

and then he sat down and lifted the both of us into his lap.

"Daddy," I giggled. "Aren't we too heavy for you?"

He squeezed us in a brief embrace and said,

"Never."

 

When I grew up, I fell in love with you.

And it was the first time I knew what Mom

had been talking about all those years,

explaining to me what love was

in words that could never suffice.

As cliché as years of experience has made it sound,

I did get butterflies.

And one day, I was holding my little cousin on my lap.

You had been helping my dad with something,

and were finally finished.

As you walked toward me,

I couldn't even help but smile,

and my cousin's head shot up,

"Your heart's beating really fast," she said, and she giggled.

I just poked her on the nose and sent her off to play.

So you sat down,

and took me on your lap.

"Aren't I too heavy for you?" I chuckled.

"Never," you said.

 

Someday, I will be an old woman.

I will look back at this particular decade of my life

with greater fondness than any other decade.

I will let my eyes unfocus, and my mind wander over these memories

more than any others I possess.

My wrinkled, fragile fingers,

will caress these photos until the edges are dog-eared.

I will re-read the letters

until the ink is smeared with tears

and the paper has fallen to pieces.

And although you may hate me for saying so,

I have a very special wish…one wish…

for that day in the future when this happens.

And the wish is

that another pair of sturdier wrinkled hands

will reach out

to give a second look to,

and then gently slide each photo into its spot

in the albums…

The hands will use a tissue to blot at the tears

before they smear the ink,

and then will cup together

to catch the delicate petals of paper as

they crumble.

And when the hands reach out again,

they will take my frail, aging body into a lap

on which I have sat many times,

and run gently through the locks of my

white hair.

I will say, "Darling, surely I am too heavy for you now."

And I wish with all my heart,

that you would be there

always,

to say,

"Never."

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Fitting


It doesn't quite fit.
I've put this on,
this newness,
Told myself, "Yes, this is how it should be."
Worn this newness proudly and positively.
Others notice...say,"She looks good...happy."
I do, don't I.
And yet, I am
Twisting it slightly this way and that
Pulling it down to cover this,
Stretching it over to reveal that,
Adjusting the size,
Sucking in,
letting out,
Scratching where it itches.
Something just isn't quite right with it...
Doesn't quite fit.
This new life feels weird on me....
I want to exchange it.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I must have made a mistake.
This does not work on me at all."
I want my old clothes back.
I want the worn-in, faded comfort.
I want the thick, fuzzy "Good morning" and
"Merry Christmas."
I want the henley, the waffle-print "You're cute" and
"How was your day" imprinted on my cheek.
I want the thin, breezy "Let's go for a walk" and
"Wait for me" pale against the tangle of my hair.
I even want the bare nakedness,
The warm, soft "I love you" and
"Goodnight" with a kiss melting on my shoulder.

But I am told there are no returns.
No exchanges.
My old clothes have been pawned off
To others more deserving.
Did I really give them up?
Or did you strip me of them?
I cannot remember, but wish,
Desperately, that I knew whose fault it was
that nothing fits me anymore.
So I leave,
Bringing with me the ill-fitting,
Ill-gotten garments that are all I have left.I
put them on,
Grimace,
but wear them nonetheless...

Walk to my dresser and remove
One shirt I have of yours...
Smells like you...
And breathe it in.
It fits
Even if just inside,
For a moment,
And as an illusion,
It fits.
I put it back.
My brief and fleeting comfort.
Into the drawer of everything else that
Will never fit.