(when my long thick hair was the color of walnuts
and there was hardly a curve to my hips,
when life was centered on
whatever was right before me and a pocket full of nebulous dreams
that changed more frequently than the tide).
you chose me over two decades later.
You looked into eyes scored by laughter and grief,
wrapped your arms around a body softened by motherhood,
and embraced the known (my nearly grown children,
an overgrown garden,
and a history that knocks against the garden gate
like an unwanted solicitor).
Perhaps, because there was so little in my world,
that was brand new or untarnished,
the shine of your love was impossible to pass by.
So we have each other now.
And as tempting as it is – to wonder
what we could’ve been,
or might have had, or would have done if
our hearts had intertwined before;
back – when you loved to drive too fast, and I could dance for hours;
back – when we owed nothing and expected everything;
back – when it felt like we had all the time in the world….
As tempting as it might be, I don’t often go there.
Why should I?
Choosing each other then would have been simple.
Choosing each other today is determined.
Choosing each other today is faith, and
open eyes, and a willingness to love
(in spite of all we have learned that is frightening)
because of all we know is that is possible.
martha lee phelps © February 2013
~ for a.j.