Watching her is my national pastime. But
It wasn't always that way. As time goes by
She became more and more beautiful
And interesting to me. In years ago
I was too busy, too important, too whatnot
To really pay attention but she was still there.
Those days swizzled by like flaking cards
Or the view from a racing plane window down the runway.
The wonders blurred in purpose, all
Those things I now find so fascinating
Were there then too, but who had
The time? Who had the time?

She certainly was going back and forth
To work, and getting ready every morning.
Now, this process of her getting ready
Is enthralling to me. I stroll by and watch
Her blow dry her hair, captivated by how
She is looking at herself in the mirror.
Does she see what I see? The beauty?
The grace? The purpose? The gentle love
In preparing for her day – not for herself,
No never that – for others? Just so.
So that nothing interferes with her giving
To others. So that no one wonders
"Is she having a bad day?" Or
"She looks tired this Friday." Everything
Must be right so that effectiveness
Is unimpeded. No impediments allowed.

She makes oatmeal in a show of multitasking
Dexterity beyond belief. Boiling, cutting
Fruits, checking the coffee, setting the table,
Getting dressed, checking weather,
Taking a phone call, and it always comes
Out perfectly. I drive her to work sometimes now,
Something I also never did back in the
Whizzing days of my conceit. She loads
All of the work she brought home – and got done
Somehow – into the back seat and jumps into
The front seat with a whooosh of gentle perfume
And fresh air from outside, looks at me and says
"Off we go." On the drive she is piecing together
The jigsaw of our day, her day. Dinner tonight,
"I'll be home later (5:00 p.m.)" A discussion
Of surprising detail about our daughter or
An insight into something she read in the paper.
Then we pull up, a soft kiss and I watch her
Carry three bags full of stuff, teachers' stuff,
Into the school. I think how lucky they are
To have someone like her on their payroll.

I remember when she worked for me,
Hard days for her, since loving me is
A complicated she-loves-me-
She-loves-me-not-task that rises and falls
In her with hard breathing like a man working
Or a woman in labor.

To me it was so easy. I did and done. Enough said.
But as the years have gone by, I see how wrong
That was. How mistaken I was.
Like that blurring view out the window
Of a speeding airplane, I thought I had lofted
Into a higher orbit than that, but really
I was in a low, low Earth orbit, more like a rut
Of not ready, or not caring, and of assumptions
That were true, like she loves me, but were
Harsh like petals torn out of beautiful things
And cast to the wind as if nothing mattered
But the capricious outcome of a child's game.
She loves me, she loves me not ...
As though it will all turn on chance in the end
When in truth it had nothing to do with chance.
It was a miracle of love tested, tried, and found
Not wanting. I watched her yesterday, walking
Into her school. Our kaleidoscope of together
Mirroring through my thoughts. I watched her
Press the button on the door, asking for permission
To enter the security-minded building. Her finger
Was soft pushing, gently, not let-me-in urging.
The cold morning frosted her breath in the
December air. She turned and smiled at me,
Her hair jostled softly with the movement.
She didn't see my tears. Tears of love
That I cannot control. I have lost control now.

Now my thoughts cannot hide me,
My preoccupations have evaporated.
Now I am free to feel a moment
So rich and yet so everyday. A moment so
Many just let go blurring past. No pause in awe.
I was once like that. But now
The she-loves-me-she-loves-me-not
Is a song of emotion and devotion,
A moment to moment unfolding
Something I adore and cherish.

As I drove home alone
I felt the alone but it soothed me
Because alone is a feeling that
Comes from together. That little
Thought had me smiling as I
Arrived, turned off the car
And walked toward our house.

The cold air iced the leftover tears
But they warmed away once
I got inside.

12/11/2010

Posted on 06/10/2011
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