Arm-wrestling God

We share 20 years.

She hosted a beautiful wedding as I joined my life to my first real love, and provided a haven when he returned to his; liquid, cold, uncaring, and violent.

She was there through the howls of birth; first mine, and later, theirs.

And, as I suffered through the death of one not to be born alive, she was there as I emerged from the examination room, holding a single rose, and her tongue, on the long, silent ride home.

When I determined to try again, staring down forty, she propped me up when my feet were too swollen to carry me, and never failed to remind me of the folly in my decision.

Now as I bare my soul, share my guilt, and bemoan my lack of restraint, she does what only she can do….

“You arm-wrestled God for a man, honey! What did you think was gonna happen?”

This is her gift…

Rollercoaster of Love

Spent the better part of this morning carrying a large rock, dead center, in the middle of my chest…

And, then the questions began…

“What are you thinking about?”

“Are you having a good day?”

The phone rings, and I grope, desperately into and around the seat behind me to get it before it stops. And I do. And it’s not him…

And the reassurances…

“I love you, Mom…”

And the “click” on an empty email icon…

And the caring…

“You can’t drive around like that. Let me take the car in for you. We’ll settle up later…”

And…silence.

And laughter at shared experiences, and the wonder of physical prowess, and sweet rest, much needed…

A day that began in tears, and ended in gratitude.

And, I will ride again, tomorrow…</div

Ahhh…youth

I can remember when I was much younger, and dating…

you know, late teens, early twenties,

before every date featured an obligatory grope session…

There was a particular kind of sweetness about the morning after.

As I begin the reluctant climb into consciousness…

freeze-frame shots of the day before play across my brain as I lay with my eyes closed, unaware that my arms have wrapped around my pillow in an effort to bring it in just a little closer.

A smile begins to play across my lips as memories warm me from the outside in.

And, as I finally turn in surrender to the burgeoning day, the smile moves into my opening eyes,

and I hug the pillow even tighter as, stretching, my limbs tingle with the anticipation of things to come…

Giving Thanks

Have I ever told you that I thank God for you, everyday?

Have I ever told you that all through my day

as snippets of conversation dance across my brain,

and the sound of your laughter echoes from a warm place,

I embrace the feeling and raise it up in thanks.

And, sometimes, sometimes if I’m really present

and I hold that feeling up really high,

I am sure I feel a “You’re welcome”…

Will You?

Will you walk with me?
Can we go to the beach?
Will you scout for the best spot and raise my umbrella?

Will you sing to me,In your best morning voice,
Songs of life, and love, and hope, and strength?

Will you think of me,
When I am faraway?
Will your face soften to reflect the sparkle in your eyes?

Will you dance with me
When we are alone?
Will our bodies softly sway, as one?

Will you work with me
When life walks in uninvited?
Will you take my hand and help me find the path of least resistance?

Will you love me
When the blinders are off
And nothing stands between us
and long walks on the beach,
Morning songs,
Softly swaying bodies,
And life.

Just As You Intended

Just as you intended…

Your words wash over me in waves, a soft caress

soothing

As my soul relaxes, I answer your request to look inside,

at the wonder of you,

and am blinded by strobe-like flashes

of your hunger

of your need

of your brilliant capacity for love.

I ride the crest, luxuriating in your warmth,

until, longing for more, I turn to you

and sink inside your silent void.

Never

You are faceless, and, for all practical purposes nameless.
I have never buried my nose into the top of your head, or the center of your chest, or into the crease of your hip and inhaled, deeply, your essence.
I have never run my fingers over the roughness of your hands, or traced the lines of your face.
I have never heard you breathe, or watch you sleep.
I have never fed you.
I have never heard your laugh, or felt you cry and kissed the wetness from your lashes.
I’ve never felt the softness of your flannel shirt against my bare skin, or anticipated the sound of your footsteps.
But I know you…
And I care…