The Drawer That Stays Closed

Hand me the matches. Sleep comes dropping slow now in these our later years. The season is over and we together make the best of what we been given. Somewhere between purgatory of pure goodness and heavenly so grateful for this luck. Forest frost to heat to dust of sands — we go for a nice walk then up those Minne Haha concrete stairs carved in the cliff. Waters of some time after powerful waterfall. The mist still knows our faces.

Then crossing an earth soil field of past years unbroken flowing through. Every year we get lost in ruminations of unconditional kindness, including our beloved little Carlos running uncollared. He has never once looked back. That dog trusts the world more than either of us ever could, and isn't that something to witness from a creature with a brain the size of your fist.

Driving home to tired neighbors. When did we start believing in faith? Was it as a child outside in the sun before entering kindergarten? Nobody remembers. Loving you Honey is sweet and slow as heaven spaciousness. Above and below. Upstairs and in the luxurious basement bunker TV room. Us. From day before birthday leap-hop to next birthday. The calendar a drumbeat we dance badly to and don't care.

Our sunny yellow bedroom with wedding photo on the wall there. Sheets just washed comforting our warm to cool skin to flesh to blood circulating. One kiss before falling asleep. Can quietness be enough? It sure can by far with you. Still alive — or should I say instead living out every Godly wish the best we can everyday. Full bodied. Blossoming frequently. There is a drawer in the kitchen I have never opened and I intend to keep it that way.

Candle cake plant and kite balloon birthdays are just a matter of time. In a right side up world we can't go backwards regarding how time operates. You are another poster child for growing older gracefully and I'm so fortunate to have you as my soul mate on this last long journey we're doing together. Some of these hills are steep, love. Good thing we been training on those Minne Haha stairs.

A smile of a rainbow changing back to a light rain. Leave the light on the porch — the figurative figurines need their Vitamin D. A song moves through too Minnesota-fearful-character-welcome to leave us. Such foolishness. Carry in the bags of food items with most of your might.

That's all I have to say.