He sat on the edge of the couch in our wedding sweet; 8 stories in the air with walls of windows. The navy shades were drawn, the white 5 o'clock light only came in streaks. Elbows on his knees, a letter propped by fingers, and I saw him grow.
To think of it, I don't know how the envelope landed in our possession. I remember all of my other things, gently resting over my plaid suitcase. A veil, a dress and my grandmother's hair piece. But all of our cards were supposed to be in a box in someone's car.
Grandpa's handwriting on notebook paper looked like his voice sounds. My brand new husband sat with his tuxedo unbuttoned, young in skin. The message sweet, the absence sorrowful. And I saw him grow.
Something to remember.
you write really well, but i'm sure you've heard that before. my husband also writes, so i'm a reading fool!
ReplyDeletethanks for visiting my blog! i'm actually a bit of a minimalist, too since we moved two years ago because i thought moving would be easier to do with less stuff. so i made the rule that if i get something new, i have to get rid of something old, that way i always have the same number of things!
oh this is just gorgeous. such a lovely image. such an important thing to remember.
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