If I pause as I do this morning I can feel clouds behind my eyelids and the ache on my tail bone where I slipped last night shattering my wine glass on the carpet in the dining room “Good thing you drink white wine,” he said as he picked up the shards and scrubbed chardonnay from the carpet while I changed my shirt and if I pause to think about it, that was a kind gesture and I am grateful If I pause as I do now, I can still feel that pang of hurt from something my niece said to me and I realize that her truth and my truth do not intersect much, that she's matriarch over a large family and leads them in ways I cannot understand, a mist of sadness lingers knowing two of her grandchildren will be born this winter to unvaccinated mothers If I pause as I do now, I can hear myself sigh as I often do, if I pause I will remember that I am responsible for my reactions to unkind words, to a sadness that has not been removed for over fifty years, to losses that cannot be made whole again, only reconciled through sighs If I pause as I do now, I notice a coffee taste lingering on my tongue, the cool glass of the desk where I rest my elbows, I will notice that I have lived with this man who cleaned up broken glass for me more than once, who soothed a broken heart for me more than once, I will notice that for half of my life, 33 of my 66 years we’ve built an Us together and if I pause like I do now, I appreciate the magnitude of this gift
This poem is dedicated to my best friend, David, my husband. It was inspired by phrases in the poem, Winter Morning by James Crews.
Top photo is of my husband and I vacationing in Mexico, 2018. The bottom photo was taken at our wedding.