for my husband

i was wearing a blue dress, shimmering with undertones of black and violet - he was in white bucks, red sport coat and khaki pants. i noticed his eyes first - liquid brown doe eyes - the kind that cry easily and can't hide anything - eyes that are hard to look away from.

i'm not sure if i believe in reincarnation but if i did i would be certain we had known each other in another life - maybe many times. how could the feeling of coming home be explained any other way the night we met at the captain's ball onboard the jubilee? i didn't realize how my eyes were always searching - looking beyond what was in front of me for something else - what else? my eyes settled on jim with a startling sense of home and peace and steadiness that held my focus - ended the searching. what causes that kind of heart radar - soul radar - that knows deeply even when your educated rational head doesn't?

coming home isn't a simple thing - it is making a choice to step away from all the rest - to go to a place where all that is hidden is laid bare. it is vulnerability -a place that holds your tired head in the soft light and feeds you security and warm mashed potatoes - braces your life and your aching back with blue velvet cushions and feather beds. home is the place that draws us close and makes us whole - says you can rest in me - then sends us back into the world

knowing all is as it should be.

home was the gift offered in jim's fearless gaze on that june day almost 23 years ago when we were young and beautiful and living had not left so many scars. it was the life offered exactly 21 years ago as i walked slowly down the aisle, with no reservation, to my handsome groom - who is too loud sometimes - voices opinions i often disagree with - forgets to put down the toilet seat - snores every night on the soft pottery barn sectional - encourages me to follow my dreams and unselfishly comes along for the ride - holds me firmly by the collar with a kind voice of reason when i have lost reality and become nothing more than poetry and floating white clouds and the colors of the rainbow ---- my best friend who knows me better than i know myself.

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i had the best turkey sandwich of my life on our wedding night. room service brought it on a silver tray lined with white linen, covered by a grand silver dome. i hid under the covers in the glorious king size bed at the Waldorf - covering my skimpy red and black honeymoon attire. we were starving and we tore into those sandwiches like hungry kids eating hot dogs at a picnic. we hadn't had a lot of time to eat at our wedding - too much fun - people to greet - dancing - laughing with college friends - hugging smiling relatives - basking in the glow of being princess for a day. we had planned every detail of our wedding - from the mediocre band who forgot the lyrics to our wedding song - to the tulips on the table - to the stony hill inn because of the lovely long windows and stone walls that would look so pretty in the pictures. a magical day - but not much time for eating. we giggled and drank champagne all the way to the hotel in the back of the limo - then up to the beautiful room for a shower and a chance to wear my honeymoon attire for just a brief moment ------ then starving. what a feeling of contentment and peace and pure physical bliss at that moment - to consume a big turkey sandwich on homemade bread with lettuce and mayo - crumbs falling over the king size bed and my new husband's chest.

a promise of things to come.

***********

i'm sorry leonard cohen but love is a victory march.

have you ever tried to keep your mouth shut out of kindness

quiet your anger

wash away the green of jealousy with yielding blue sky?

have you reached out without fear

in spite of fear

to let someone else be first

be celebrated

be embraced without faltering

in twisting winds of hurricanes and tornadoes and hot angry breath?

allowed another to rest a broken life against your shoulder

without complaint

even in its unbearable heaviness?

have you forgiven

because you were generous beyond necessity

and love was the only expression that mattered?

love is a noble victory march.

to become selfless in the most selfish of worlds

to see only the loveliness before you

allowing shattered pieces to fall away like broken pottery

swept up and discarded

never missed.

victory, victory

to march through this vile and contaminated world

moments and years lost in

too much talking

too much distraction

too much

and still be offered the simple grace to love and be loved.

hallelujah, hallelujah.

**************

all my love to you, as flawed as it is, to have and to hold,

forever and ever