by Woody Starkweather
You wrote, “born in East Orange, New Jersey.”
“Me too,” I wrote.
And our sled began to move.
It was icy on that hill, and soon we were flying down,
The wind chilling our faces, snow flying,
Laughing, exhilarated.
For months we knew only the computer screen,
And words, words, words, words, words.
Millions of words, tens of millions of streaming keystrokes.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
And our hearts beat faster.
I never thought that words could carry so much meaning.
I who love words and know their many ways.
I came to love your words,And through your words, and only through your words,
I fell in love with you.
And then we met, you looking down, Juliet-like,
Nota bene, he drives a jeep.
I, looking up, squinting because yours smile was in my eyes.
“Do you want a hug,” you said.
“Sure,” I said, feigning casualness.
And we drove around, looking at historical sites,
But seeing only ourselves, our faces for the first time,
And that we were the right sizes for each other.
Hearing the high pitch of first things and the buzz of miracles.The sled was moving faster now.
There were some bumps on that hill,
Some scary moments.
Once, alone in a hotel on a rainy night in Dallas,
I thought I might never get back to you.
But we passed the bumps,
And we careened on down, careless.
But holding tight.
And there was so much laughter,
“Sleep with me, sleep with my cat”
And helping you move, so many, many times.
And “This.” We didn’t dare use the “C” word (couple),
So we called our relationship “This.”
And then buying the house.
And finally, Moving in.
And then the hill leveled out a little,
And the ride got smoother,
And the scenery changed a lot
We settled in for a longer ride.
We wrote a book together,And were amazed when it won an award.
We traveled a lot —
Jamaica, Australia, Sweden, Denmark, England, Belgiium, France.
We took a train across the country.
The hill had a wonderful view.
Then one night Susannah served us.
And Andrew sang to us,
And there were blue stones and happy tears
And the magic of city streets.
“Wait!”
What was that?
Was that a proposal?
Or what? What was that?
“Do you want to marry me? Is that it?”
And here we are.