Teacher asks, What is your favorite physical feature of your spouse?
She says,
Smile.
Another says,
Eyes.
My turn as I smile and say,
Legs. Trust me, his legs.
Begs and pleads and he slowly gives and lifts cuffed pants to reveal to hollers and whistles; someone even passes him a dollar. Laughs and legs.
Robin laughs loudly, whistles. Her feet marching in place at her chair as she doubles over -same as she always laughed. How she laughs beautifully. How I remember. She's gone now. Too soon, too young.
How long does death hurt?
As long as memory.
Saturday I lean against rough wood and watch glass burn and expert hands turn and mold and beauty form. Looking away I see him walking to me. Legs. I begin to feel . . .
Then I see his face. Grinning and swollen vein. He's done it.
Something.
Two maybes. He's done it or I will soon hear some knowledge great to him about this piece of glass beauty he is gently cradling.
No, he's done it.
Happy Birthday, he says.
I look at the colors, the transparancy of glass and love.
I gently argue about the money as I touch it and I'm thinking once again - How far can a woman fall?
Trust me Rie, it's okay. I'm going to get it wrapped up.
He walks away and I lean and watch him transparent. Pursing my lips and blinking my eyes to stop what is threatening to fall. I blink harder.
He walks back, sees me trying hard and takes my lean. Taking my place he slips his arms around my waist and whispers, Trust me. I lean.
He kisses my neck and my gratitude list continues . . .
hair in a ponytail
feel of lips on skin
birthdays
glass vases
watching them watch knowledge
chips of broken color
rented strollers
frozen lemonade
rest stops
ziplines
ziplines
blueberry muffins
rock walls
hot tubs
backpacks
rope courses
rope courses
blankets on grass
birthday calls
birthday texts
Grace
traffic jams
rest
Grace
traffic jams
rest
lights of home
never traveling alone
never traveling alone
