Friday, December 19, 2003

For Kristyn, my best gal







There is, of course, something about finding forever in another’s eyes that makes all of living worthwhile. Some people call it love; others an accident of biochemistry. It doesn’t really matter; we all seek out our own meanings to make life more bearable to live. But then you know it is much too easy to get lost in Justin’s eyes, the way they sigh at the sight of you, the way they pull you to a kiss, the way a single wink creates a grammar all its own—all of its syntax meaning you and him becoming John Donne’s hermits in each other’s bodies. Love… but how we all crow about it. Love is everything! Love is blind! Love lifts us up where we belong! After last Friday’s vows, that is all you can speak. Or think. Love preoccupies. But this post is not about that. This is about the morning after, when the wedding cake’s been eaten, the gifts opened, the honeymoon spent—you wake up in a hypothetical dawn, and suddenly there he is beside you, as a lunk on your bed, a fixture in your life you’re bound to, for better or for worse. Let’s say he is sleeping, and you are, for that moment, awake and looking at him as though observing from a spectral distance, but close, so close you can see those eyes fluttering in their dreams, and you can smell that hair, that nose, that mouth, that skin. He breathes deep in his slumber, and once in a while he moves, arms snaking around the molting you call your bed trying to find your flesh for comfort. All at once it breaks to you, the meaning of a life being with this man. Somehow there is a catch in your throat, a sliver of uncertainty, maybe even doubt. You close your eyes, and breathe in deep, as if that is the only way to understand this moment, this stillness in the morning twilight. Soon, you know the sunlight will come streaming through the windows, and soon the day will start to bring on other days—new days, all of them so far removed from a past cataloguing only comic book men, television salad days, and acacia-lined lanes. This is your future now. You hold your breath. But that feeling of feelings comes back after the dark passes. You know that the future may not always be perfect, may not always be a honeymoon. It may even be a struggle sometimes. But you know this is it—you feel it deep in your bones, like a truth. You open your eyes, and the sun’s already up. He’s awake. He kisses you good morning, and you smile. Then once again, you begin your day together as man and wife. Somehow that thought feels so right, it feels like finally coming home.






[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich

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