Monday, October 6, 2008


“A cold front is coming through,” I say.
“I know, ” he says from the bathroom.
I lie back and listen to fat drops of rain
slap against the roof of our home.
Tomorrow, through a frosted window
I’ll watch you rake Crayola colors with
winters’ breath resting on the back of

your neck. In the evening the phone will
ring with family and friends offering their
congratulations. I’ll pin my hair up and
wonder if it would look better short, as we
dress for dinner like William Powell and
Myrna Loy in one of those old movies.

The waiter will guide us to our table, a
darkened corner in our favorite little Italian
restaurant. I’ll call you darling and laugh
at all your clever jokes and in the soft glow
of candlelight we’ll make toasts to our past
and to our future. After a few glasses of

wine I’ll feel your hand heavy on my thigh
as you kiss me lightly growing ever more
insistent. The bill will be paid quickly as we
race home to make love on freshly laundered
sheets and I’ll sigh in all the appropriate places,
as you eventually collapse into that deep sleep.

When I wake in the first cold rays of morning
I’ll look at you. I mean really look at you. There
it will begin in that pushed back area of my mind,
a question slowly forming. Can I make it through
another year?


Jannie Funster said...

Raking Crayola colors, that made me cry. As I miss the North and I know just how it feels to rake those crayons.

Remember the couple who on their 50th wedding anniversary answered "Last year," when they were asked which had been their most difficult year?


Nathan said...

Wonderful build up to the unexpected end. It makes me ask about my expectations and assumptions as I read this.

White Rose said...

Jannie, I wanted to thank you for visiting.

Marty said...

The cold wind and the falling leaves makes us all wonder - "can [we] make it through another year?"

rebecca said...

oh, white rose, this was simply beautiful prose. i am at a loss for words to aptly describe the sensation i felt when reading it: love, expectations, desire, warmth - and then the last stanza -wow!!! unexpected, sad, very sad, and brilliant.

"the cold rays of the morning" said it all -- it was never her desire to be with another, but of her desire to flee, though trying to will herself to stay...

White Rose said...

Thanks so much Rebecca!

angel said...

How sad! I didn't see the end coming.