The Anniversary

The place was a busy, but quaint little pub, tucked on the edge of a sleepy subdivision, just off the 401. Gently worn, red carpeting, and fresh little tealight candles sat in their crystal holders on the sometimes wobbly, wooden tables. The dark, oiled hardwood panels on the walls kept secrets of comings and goings of locals, friends, and strangers taking in beer, blues, and conversation until the late evening hours. The comfy, plush winged back chairs were tucked in strategically by the cozy stone fireplace, sitting face to face.

I recall fondly, the heartfelt laughs, the oaky wine, the long meaningful chats, as we sat in our spot in that place, with the dancing yellow flames, burning the evening away, much too quickly for our liking.

As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into months, the memories try their hardest to push deeper, and deeper into the boxes, in the archives of my mind. But, I promised myself I would keep some special times alive, and reopen those boxes that mean the most to me, every now and then.

On this date, I purposely curl up in my easy chair in front of the fireplace, with a glass of smoky cabernet. Read the little book of John Donne, with soft blues playing in the background. Once again, my mind visits the romance, the laughter, and the love that blossomed in that quaint little pub, in the winged back chairs, and I wonder if you remember that place, the memories we created, and this date, that we called "our anniversary".

Fifty 9

Its early morning.

A crisp, cool breeze is blowing through the gardens bursting with daffodils, hyacinth, and tulips.

As I sit alongside the shore of the river, the angry, restless, rapids rush past me.  Still in a tizzy from the spring runoff, it surely is on a mission - in a hurry, reaching for something. Its destination unknown.

I sip my strong, hot, coffee, and close my eyes, lifting my face to the sun.
I'm 59 today. How did that happen?

It's beautiful outside, but, inside I am still bruised, and bloody.
I can feel a few broken pieces stirring - there is a lump in my heart. 

Normally, I would have heard from you by now.
Your deep, morning sleepy voice, saying "good morning".
A song, out of tune, of wishes for my birthday.
I would smile, and look forward to another call later in the day, and even again in the evening.  You were thoughtful, kind, and attentive like that. And never forgot.
Just that once.

No call this year.
Life has turned to a new page, to another chapter.
A new path.

I will push through the day, and move through these feelings once again.
Mopping up the blood, and coddling the bruises.
Sweeping the broken pieces out of the way; pushing them into the river, to join the rapids on their journey to somewhere...to make room for the wishes, from those that truly love me. 

I will carry on. Remembering your voice, your words, and your birthday song, with a smile inside. 

My phone beside me, just in case.
Just in case, you just forgot.

May 22, 2019

Memories...

A familiar silhouette in the shopping mall.
A magazine cover in the bookstore.
The bookstore itself.
The faint scent of him, that catches you by surprise.
A laugh that sounds exactly the same,
you freeze in your tracks.
The voice, a few seats over,
ordering a dirty vodka martini.
A photograph you come upon by accident while looking for something unrelated.
That's all it takes.
To transcend the spectrum of emotions that take you from even keeled, easy going, normalcy,
- to gut wrenching pain, mixed with anger.
You feel those sharp little chards of glass,
the broken pieces of your heart stirring again.
You pull yourself together.
You look at the photo with maturity, and strength.
...and remember the day you were behind the lens, sitting at the little table, alongside the water, in a foreign, but familiar place - with a smile in your heart and love in the air.

Also published at www.story-quilt.com/memories/