I shall abide my
time, and when, at last,
The clamor and
the greetings all are done,
Our eyes shall
meet, and silently, as one,
We shall relive
one moment in the past,
And you shall
know, though lips let no word fall,
That in my heart
you did not leave at all.
From
When You Return by Anderson M.
Scruggs
Today is a
winter day of cobalt sky, mounded snow, and cold whose lock on winter must soon
give way to lengthening light. Chickadees preen longer on viburnum branches
between flits to the feeder. All this you would notice out of your one good eye
were you here, sipping Earl Grey in your collared blouse under a sweater
matching a good wool plaid skirt or slacks. You would appreciate my long, lithe
look, though I am no longer as much of either.
Instead, the
sunlight floods onto me alone, as you have stepped one farther reach away. You,
who mothered and mentored and drank of my love and respect in turn. The
formalities that first bound us never bridled us. Separated by divergent streams of life, the
common river of our connection flows still.
No one else said
“dear” and meant it.
Whose soft
whispered voice and gentle lilt bespoke such command?
It took 30 years
for my reading to come to the mysteries that you so loved, but I danced there a
while in time to share them with you.
Blue glass,
green carpet, wood furniture and stone, blurring boundaries of indoors and out.
The art of
thoughtful conversation.
Communicating by
listening rather than talking.
Learning the
pace of someone else’s thinking.
The art of
buying local.
All these and so
much more I live out in my life as gifts from you
“And you shall
know, though lips let no word fall,
That in my heart
you did not leave at all.”
