We were laughing, shaking our heads, crying too as we shared
these many days.
Ended up sharing memories.
They were tracing our years through the growing up of my family.
How they helped me sew Jessica’s dress for her first big
school dance/date. Hung the curtains in
the kitchen of our new house together. They remembered Conor’s heartbreak when his cousins ruined
his Lego creations during one Christmas at our house. Recalled Katie’s young sense of injustice and humor when she’d
come over after school and tell all. Wondered at the miracle of Kyla, watching her grow into such a delightful and confident girl. They have carried these along with me, and much more besides.
We were all married young, and lasting love has been our common
grace. Shared laughs over our humble
beginnings, tiny first homes and the things we did without so happily, young
romance still fresh in our minds, wondering when all this gray arrived.
Yes, we’ve shared a good road. We nod, and our banter falls silent. I wonder what they were thinking. I was suddenly lost in remembering…
He’d sold our car, taken his wife, grieving over child-loss,
to spend the summer traveling Europe, and back home, no money in our pockets,
we had only a bicycle and he rode me on the handlebars to morning mass. I was so full of love, so proud to be loved
by him for all the world to see, like the queen of an impetuous parade. I felt my own beauty that day when we
stopped there, in the back of St. Mary’s. He kissed the palm of my hand even as
I still felt the handlebars hard imprint on the back of my legs. Just put his love right there, in the palm of my hand, quick as that.
We ordered dessert to share, and why not. Held our spoons ready to dive in. It was delicious.
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