The Year That Few Will Remember This Way

Here we are, sitting paused just seconds from the countdown.
An entire year becomes like a mural, a portrait easy to stare into,
an image that often reflects like a mirror
as we wonder what direction all the time ran away from us.

But look at what we witnessed!
A gift to walk through ancient homes and even more ancient lands,
to see the world below from the tip tops of mountains so grand,
to learn and love with someone who learns and loves with you.

My joyous eyes well up
when I see how wonderful a year lit our walkways to where we are.
The most beautiful of chances to spend our days at home
while we wait for the most beautiful son to join ours.

For My Loves, Always

Each flicker of the Christmas lights are a memory, a wish.
Each bulb illuminates a path of everywhere we have been and will go.
Everything we've created was and is a vision
I first saw in your kind eyes staring back at me.

Even when the lights turn out for the night,
my eyes rest easy as we rest easy,
while my mind wanders with bright colors and louder laughs,
envisioning the daylight to come and the smiles we'll share.

Whoever said life wasn't easy must have never been in love.
For I've seen so much the world gives us to handle
and yet I've never once struggled to love you,
since before we met and every day since.

You are my loves, my hearts, my souls,
my gifts, my smiles, my goodness.
You are the proof in my world of disbeliefs
that I need only believe in love.

And Amaze Me

Someday, I'll describe the moments, the details that led to you.

I'll tell you how I met my soul mate and best friend all at once. 

I'll explain the smiles, the trips, the building of memories skyscrapers tall.

You'll hear about a love that never ceases to grow, and amaze me. 

And the journey begins

What can we even say?
We first witnessed your life in a photograph, colorless, still.
But as your heart races to us, as you grow into us, we will be here waiting each day for you.
For you are the epitome of what our lives have wanted, what our minds have wondered.
What can we even say?
We'll tell you when you get here.

The Hard Thing

Why is it that something other than the best of us can so easily get the best of us?
The ability to do so is so much better when we are able to squeeze any good from it.
The ease of which we can take it, turn it, give it back in its most horrific form -- it's something.

Why is it that the best of us can so easily turn into the worst of what we can be?
It's sadness. It's pain. It's possessive.
It's because we let ourselves. It's the easy thing to do.

But how often should we judge anything by the ease of which it comes?
Perhaps, it is the difficulty we should prize.
Grasping at the challenge, the gleaming, tauntingly visible obstacle.
Shouldn't that be the motive?
To take and twist any of the bad into something beautiful on the other end.

And maybe spread a pinch of even a memory of sunshine onto a poor soul who needs something to remember.
Perhaps maybe that can help light a path for wherever they were headed to begin with.
After all, the ease of which we can turn a smooth surface into a jagged, stone-filled quest
can be kept a guided trail by the mere decision to hold back judgment on anything we would hate to be judged for.

"Slept high up in the Rockies..."

The spirals in the creek float to the edge only to disappear to reappear as new ones downstream.
The sound of the small rapid helps define the peace found here.
Hidden below the snow capped peaks, the water strolls through the meadow, icy cold -- a perfect reminder that it may be summer, but winter is never too far away.
As the elk stroll across the land that is proudly theirs, we take advantage of their generosity and soak in every drop of serenity.

Left or Right?

Staring across the range

from who knows how many feet high,

sitting in the window seat.

But I'm distracted by the pinnacle.

A career turn ahead,

I'm sitting in the drivers seat.

Heavily it rests on my mind

already pulled thin at times.

I am strong.

Thankful she is stronger.

Thankful my love will travel

to wherever my mind deems best.

Only a matter of time before my heart interferes.

At least, that's how I remember it

There must have been 30 of them

huddled in the corner.

30 muffled chuckles when I gave them the news.

Just one of me, the medical marvel, the unanswered question.

They were the doctors and I was the patient.

Help is what I asked for. 

Judgement is what was prescribed.

A four-walled microcosm of my envisioned reality.

I was the odd man out, again.

I'm telling you, there must have been 30 of them.

Four Years

It's incredible to soak it in.
The sea of cold sheets blanket us in comfort.
In this city we call home,
I've never felt so lucky.

It's been a long time since my feet last touched the ground.
Four years.
And I don't plan on landing back down.
Anytime. Ever.

From my second story window

Lucky enough to know that I know nothing of the moment.
What that must feel like.
The thoughts that bounce around her mind.

I know nothing of the process,
the words to come up with,
hoping hers will stand out.
Hers will make them want to hand out.

That moment when the pen cap's removed,
the sudden scent of permanent ink that could erase
something she hopes is temporary.

She felt the felt tip touch the surface,
all she could afford or find.
She's lost any sense of entitlement now
as she picks up the sign.

I know nothing of what it takes to walk the distance,
a mere prayer in her hands,
to plant feet in a place so many had likely failed before,
but she hopes she'll be different.

Hopes.
Dashed with every car,
driven by eyes that move the other direction
as they painstakingly wait out the seconds for the OK to move on.

They are lucky enough to know nothing of the moment.
What that must feel like.
The thoughts that bounce around her mind.