I had just thrown up when the doorbell rang. I wiped my mouth clean and pulled the door open to let February chill rush inside. "Laura?" asked the stranger. "Have a good day." He handed me a hulking bouquet, plastic wrapped against the wind. "Ooo, Mama!" chirped the small boy at my knees. "Those are beautiful! Let's open them!" Roses red as blood spilled their scent across the kitchen as I unwound the plastic bags, my pregnant belly pressed against the counter. I read the typed card on the tall plastic fork and it made me laugh, private jokes still funny after years and years. This is what love looks like now. . . . A decade of marriage has slipped behind us, only a fifth of the beads on a rosary chain. A small handful of mysteries. At turns joyful, sorrowful, glorious, luminous. We know each other better than we know anyone else on this rocky planet. The deep body knowing that comes from years of sharing sheets and silverware and the same strange sense of … [Read more...] about what love looks like now
love
this is a love story
Today I will rise early. I will slip downstairs before anyone else stirs. I will open the front door slowly, without a creak. I will step out onto the dewy grass with bare feet. I will listen to bird song and tree wind. I will close my eyes and try to breathe. Tonight I will go to bed late. I will pull out the small box in the bottom drawer of my desk. I will read the sympathy cards, trace the edge of the picture, run the rosary beads between my fingers. I will whisper a prayer under my breath for a baby that was never born. I will be the one who remembers. . . . Tomorrow he will rise early. He will creak open the bedroom door to spy through the sliver. He will brighten when he catches our sleepy eyes. He will shuffle bare-footed to the bed and slip between us in the still-warm sheets. He will smile thank you when we sing a quiet happy birthday. At evening's end he will curl into bed with a new book and a gleaming baseball bat leaning on his nightstand, waiting for the … [Read more...] about this is a love story
the essay I never wrote
I plopped the baby on the ground beside me, mail already scattered across the grass like clumsy confetti. He lunged for the letters; I snatched them up and sighed. A long, muggy summer afternoon; too-hot kids whining about everything under the sultry sun and still hours to go before dinner. The baby grabbed the envelopes again. I gave in. Junk mail; who cares; he was happy. So I reached for the magazine instead, the one that made my heart skip whenever I saw its spine curved in the mailbox, the one my husband and I secretly race to read ahead of each other, leaving favorite pages folded open on the counter so the other doesn't miss the good stuff. I flipped to the back page. Always the prized place for the best essay. And oh - a small glimmer on a dragging afternoon - a favorite author's byline! This would be so good. This would be the cool breeze on the sweaty neck. This would be the moment's peace in the feuding brothers' backyard war. This would be my five-minute reward … [Read more...] about the essay I never wrote
