Patty.
A first
snow.
The spirit
the same.
The impact
of each -- unforgettable.
In recent
months she liked waking me up. She would claim a need for ice water, or the
remote had dropped to the floor. I knew she just needed company. We would sit
together and chat. Mainly reminisce. She would recall our car trips to and from
Racine, when my mother was still alive. 30 in all. 3 a year for all 10 years of
our marriage.
The first
giant flakes of memories begin to float from a pearl grey wet sky.
She would
state her dreams, knowing full well in her soul, that these were not to be.
Places we might still see, and people with who we would reconnect. She would admonish
me not to give up hope. She would instruct me on the basic tenets of her faith.
God would not let her down.
The flakes
grow faster now. They sre smaller but more fierce, and the ground is coated in
a crisp clean white sheet of snow.
She would
ask me if, in spite of “it” all, if I was happy we had married. I would offer
her all the assurance I could muster, but it was never enough. She so wanted to
be my perfect wife.
The snow
outside is beginning to whip, and there are Carvel cone tops to many of the
drifts. The sun is out. The light wincing bright. It will be gorgeous when it
stops. The whole world like the hide of a zebra.
I tell her
of her incredible presence. How many lives she touched with her gracious and
grateful spirit. I recite the names of the youths she has showered with
affirmation and affection. I affirm her impact on her grandchildren, and her
own children, and mine. How much love they have known because of her, and what
a magnificent mentor she has been in the art of loving. She smiles and she
weeps.
The snow is
settling. The flakes have grown large again. There is a pink glow flirting with
the horizon. She says we need a hot cup of coffee, and toast. I fetch. We gaze
out the window and wait. The light will bring this first snow to life. All is
still. All is calm. An all is so very very bright.
She tells me
I had better not forget to kiss her before heading for work. I tell her I will
stay home for the morning. She is delighted. Like we are skipping school
together. We both fantasize like children. Sledding. Snowballs. Skating. Hot
chocolate. We enter the state of heaven.
I raise the
blinds. Everything carries a wet load of snow. The trees and bushes droop. The
sunlight sparkles and pirouettes along the crust of snow outside our window. It
looks as though it will last forever. But, like Patty, its time will be short
and sweet.
Patty says,
“How on earth can anyone not believe, and behold all this beauty?”
I have no
idea.
The sun has
created drips and drops from the eaves, and soon it will be a tiny torrent. The
magic will be over by noon. I savor my coffee, as I savor this moment with my
wife. This woman who blanketed my life with such cozy warmth and fondness and
love. My adoring fan. My advocate. My soul sharer.
Patty.
A first
snow.
They have
come and gone in my life. Too fast. Too brief. But, the feel of them. The awe
inspired. That is etched upon my heart. That has entered a heaven of
timelessness and beauty. When there was and is a peace which passes all
understanding. A knowing the unknown. The embrace of the certainty of
uncertainty. The march of days.
Once a year
it comes. A first snow. Bringing healing hope to the mud cracked earth. The
brownish greys all exit on command. There before us is a clean slate. A field
of unconditional love. The promise of God. The hope of every tomorrow. Right
there. Before our eyes.
We will choose
not to walk across this crystalline plain. We shall not dare to mar its
surface. We simply stand and stare. We are still. We know that God is indeed
God. We are not. We are finally fine with that, and we wisely wave the white
flag of surrender. All is ahhhhh.
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