He turns to her, when did she change or did he. He knows her in all her past moments. How many years had it been since the passions flared. Her silhouette in the bright bedroom closet light outlines some of the physical changes. He sees the familiar person with a new solitude that emanates the acceptance of life as it is now. How long has it been from their very first meeting bridging to the rites of marriage. The birth of their child. The time past though edge of life which seems to fall away. The years compressed into a complex awareness.
He moves on not telling her of his thoughts. She moves past him into the next task. How strange it is wondering about what he had missed when their lives have been changing. Her grace is still there with a touch of love, grace and wisdom.
The differences from time past to now. What had happened to the romantic nights bringing them close, when did they wane? The warmth of her body with the feeling of reverence to be allowed to hold her and lay claim to her being. He knew she was willing to lose herself inside the two of them. She also needed the identity of her soul. She separates herself to find solace and comfort in her feelings. Then just as quickly lays it aside to answer the call of others with a smile and making those around feel they are her center of focus.
He moves on not able to understand the consequences of the change. Later he awakes from a night’s sleep. He wonders is this it, has their life morphed into a daily routine of eating, watching TV, going to appointments. Can he recapture the past to reignite the passion that he is now missing? Then walks by asking anyone of a dozen questions about today’s activities. She turns stopping and moves back to him leaning into him holding them together physically and emotionally. She asks what are you thinking on? You, I was thinking of you. How much I love you being with me and grounding my existence.
Leaning back, seeing him admiring her. She knows he still loves her with all his heart. The idea comes to her what is he really thinking? She asks with a warm smile as he says, ‘How beautiful you are.” She knows that is his pat answer but always holds it dear. He watches as she rounds the turn in the laundry. Her body moves keeping his attention. Her movements remain as a ghostly image that hangs in the air.
She and I have had the need for support during trying times. The medical major events that threaten our life together. The desire for a family for so many years, finally receiving the infant that was so gratefully accepted. The challenge of doing everything perfectively, knowing it was impossible. We worked through times together to prepare our child to face all the challenges that await just around the next corner. There have been changes that challenge our understanding of our child but continue to give support though the years.
The day’s end brings us back to the bedroom where our day began. Her silhouette reappears drawing my interest and intimacy. I move around the house checking, a last session on the laptop. Pills, retuning to her now in bed. She is reading at least had been, now in that middle passing from wakeness to deep sleep. I move the reader to the night stand. I wake her to put her bed down so her neck does not cramp. I lay down looking at the ceiling wandering if this is it. The sameness of life keeping us going until it doesn’t.
