First it was one little bed.

Then it was a little bed and a crib.

Then it was two little beds.

And then it was one big bed.

And now it is only boxes.

Sometimes I wondered if they still loved each other

Because I had a skewed sense of what love is

What love means

Because we have been told of fireworks

And passion

And adventure

But love is far deeper than these things

Love is knowing that even when the brain tires

And the grey matter transforms into

white noise

still…

He reaches across

Touches her leg

She gently holds his hand

and in that moment he transforms from child

back to husband

partner

soul mate

of 59 years and 2 months

5 children

8 grandchildren

countless memories

He looks straight at me

blue eyes beaming

with conviction

and says

“I love her.”

I look back at him and say…

“I know you do Daddy.”

There is something that happens at the end of August

The fruit once vibrant in colour, scent, taste

Rescinds into itself and contracts with lack of nourishment — less sun, less warmth

The leaves begin to turn

Many leave the city trying to hold onto the last moments of summer but we know it is a fruitless pursuit

The fall is knocking and the silent carpet of winter is on the way

This is the time of year that my birthday lies

The waning days of summer reduce themselves to a pin prick and I hope that that little spot of light will once again explode into possibility

Waiting for blossom season again