Thank you to the beloveds

Thank you for your feet standing bare by the kitchen sink as you peel potatoes–toes round and arches tilted, sometimes on tip toe as your ankles give in and you lift your whole body in praise of preparing Earth’s winter fruit. Thank you for the million and twenty thousand gifts of warm food and cold beer under a wild sky where nothing but us makes sense.

Thank you for that smile which crosses your face for no reason but “hello” and that hand that reaches and that voice that says everything when humming or speaking of the little things like snow dusting mountains or stars popping out of everywhere–that voice that stays in my ears and mind for every thing it says and doesn’t.

Thank you for the salt slid my way at the table, the check picked up because you could and knew I couldn’t. Thank you for the drive to nowhere in particular and the extra minute lingering over the candle or the book or the movie because you knew I needed it.

Thank you for your dirty hands and your chipped nails, for your pains born and those carried. Thank you for the hair in the sink and the thing no one can remember in the back of the fridge. Thanks for the empties left in the car trunk and that old blanket and those boots that seem to belong to no one. Thank you for the truth so clear all we can do is laugh and cry and laugh again.

Thank you for the extra glass of wine on the deck, the jazz on Sunday, the absolute knowledge it would all work out. Thank you for bees wax and Sunday church songs and that wistful look as the smile crosses your really perfect face that doesn’t know its own beauty.

Thank you for morning breath and bear hugs and nighties and story books and stories made of thin air and butterfly wings. Thank you for strings of jewels and art and music and all of life that makes me know being here, right here, beats all else.

Thank you for the heart break I was sure I would never survive but did. The stretching of a heart that wide is no small thing and knowing you can drown and still re-awaken to a new wonder is the fuel for ten thousand trips around the sun and to the deepest places of the soul.

Thank you for the random text message with a happy or sad face, for asking me to do a favor which you know feeds my belonging. Thank you for trusting me with some very fine things like your hope and plans and hurt.

Thank you for your crazy curls and your moments of laughter and despair in one moment–thank you for loaning me a flashlight when I was sure the road had ended.

“The rules don’t apply to you–not so far as I’m concerned.” Thank you for suspending all those right ways of doing things and not giving a damn long enough to be ready for the rules again. Thank you for the matching tea sets and linen napkins and the time we sat in the diner on a school day letting the time pass as if it didn’t matter.

Thank you for your fierceness. Thank you for refusing to let me go. Thank you for art and wine and dancing in the kitchen, for your million sayings which mean all kinds of things I can’t begin to understand but find enchanting. Thank you for bringing a bunch of dead guys back to life.

Thank you for loving me when I can’t be loved. Trusting me when I make no sense, telling me I look nice when there’s been no sleep, eating my cooking and laughing when it needs to happen. Thank you for hugging me and pulling me through a key hole, performing alchemy on the shreds of nothingness into a magnificent life.

I love you.

 

 

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1 thought on “Thank you to the beloveds

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