my love,

years, again and again. winter spring summer fall. again and again. end of summer brings the end of august.

the memory. never nervous, excited to get to the church. scolding me. dancing at the reception. reminding you to eat, smile on your face that outshined everything, saying, ok, ok, you’re right.

the flight to paris. at your mercy at the pharmacy because my ear was in pain from the pressure. walking for hours. taking the metro, working out the maps, listening to you, refusing to wait in line for the eiffel tower, walking in the louvre through the exit, the chunnel to london, the rain but sunny the next day, brighter than paris but we had no idea where to go to see what london had to offer. it accelerates, becomes a blur.

the birth of our daughter, watching her struggle to raise her neck, being told we couldn’t afford a split with a basement, feeling that this house was the one with the most potential, holding your hand on a long drive, the rush of our son, her holding him, sending him off to kindergarten, waiting in line for a ride at disney, being devastated by a looming layoff, the motel with spiders, laughing, crying, the cut of your hair, the lipstick that made you look a pristine sculpture.

years, again and again. winter spring summer fall. over and again, and i hold everything we have been and all we could still be. i hold time with you, over and again, so it never runs out.