Me and you

I see me and you sitting on a park bench somewhere.
Might be in New Hampshire, Vermont or Maine.
Maybe even on the West Dennis Beach.
We’re just sitting. Me and you covered in a flannel grey world; our lives now gone silver.
I’m still in love with you and you with me because that’s what we signed up for. And we’re still signed up.
We’ll talk about the many days gone by and people we love that are no longer here and you’ll cry. And I’ll cry.
But they’re happy tears of the stuff that we got right, the things we always agreed on and as a ‘Mom and Dad’.
Time has a way of making you look at things from a different perspective.
And God only knows that we have perspective these days.
While we sit, I lean over and smell your hair in a flirty and funny way and say ‘gee, your hair smells terrific‘ because it does.
And I know that deep down you like that I notice anything about you at this point in our lives.
Truth is, I still do.
In my mind, it’s fall and the leaves are raining down in sheets of tangerine orange, copper brown, apple reds and
‘Hannah-Banana’ yellows.
You mention that we have some raking to do and I nod in agreement.
It’s in that moment that I feel something in my heart, a bittersweet knowing about our life story and the enormity of all things we’ve shared and endured.
It’s also in that moment that I realize that there’s no one else in my life that I could ever love more than you.
And I also realize how much I hate raking leaves.

~m

ps. wrote this about a year ago. Just found it tonight.

pps. this post was inspired by my daughter, Sarah