Two As One or the Red String Runs Taunt

He is to me the foam upon my sea

Billowing up from my depths to ride on waves

Stretching towards the beachy barriers

Pulling back to chase horizons.
He has become as flesh to my bone

Gripped by ligament, sinew, muscle

All sewn together with veins 

Destruction of part forever marring the whole.
To separate us would mean to rend my soul

To divide my life’s blood from my lungs

My heart from my tongue

Told to thrive within a shriven corpse.
Physiologically whole but dissected 

All the same.

Distance is a Myth and This Too Will Become a Tale Someday

Poseidon in his watery prison has loved Selene from afar, turning his tides to draw her gaze upon him.
And Selene hung upon the velvet canvas of night unable to sink into the salty waves from her lofty height blinks slowly with regret, filling her vision with the peaked foam depths. 

I love you like the ocean loves the moon, the sight of her in the night sky roiling the ocean into tidal frenzies.

I love you with the eternal pattern of nature, unwavering and confident in the reassurance of return. 

I love you with the eternal intent of gods and the immortal imperviousness of our souls.

I love you as I have always and will always love you, in lives since passed and lives to come, and in that space of afterlife, our Heaven ensnared in each other’s eyes. 

And long before the goddess took up residence beside the empty cratered lake to stand guard over far off blue green seas and long after those seas have ebbed eternally too heavy and ancient with geological burden I have, I will, love you.

An open letter to my husband on Mother’s Day,

I know there is a day set aside for fathers especially but I wanted to take this Mother’s Day and thank my husband. First and foremost I want to thank him for the gorgeous little girl who shares half of his DNA. It takes two to tango after all. 😉 

Second, I want to thank him for supporting me throughout my pregnancy, for every back rub, ice cream run, every night you cooked dinner, and reading to my bump when it was barely a bump. I know it is hard for men to realize their role as a father while their partner is pregnant but you cared, you engaged, you became a father when I showed you the plus sign on that test. 

Third, for not backing down in the delivery room. You held my leg and you got in there and watched our daughter be born. Your strength is the reason I got through labor, the reason I found it in myself to dig deep and push. 

Finally, and maybe most importantly, I want to thank you for the way you support my ability to parent. Our situation is somewhat unique. Your deployment means I am solo parenting and you have to be away for nearly the entire first year of our daughter’s life. 

But do not doubt that you have a significant impact on her life at the moment. Because of you I find the strength to get up at 6 am after 4 hours of sleep (rarely all at once). Because of you I am able to present my kindest, most patient self when our daughter is difficult. Because of you she and I will never want for comfort and security. Because of you, I understand I must fill my cup before I have anything to give to our child. 

Giving birth may have made me a mother, but you make me a good one. 

I love you.

My Love Tells Me I Am Beautiful…

When the gray mornings of a humid, drizzly day cause my hair to frizz and fray.

When my tears leech through my mascara darkened eyelashes in black rivulets down my cheeks.

Before I wash the night’s sleep from my face .

Standing under the harsh truthfulness of white fluorescent lights.

When the stress of the day bows his shoulders down like Atlas.

When the night is dark and the moon has shut its eye to steal the little light it gives.

When I dressed all in white and took his hands for life.

When he wiped the sweat from my brow with the edge of my ugly hospital gown.

When my nose is red and I can’t stop coughing and fever blurs my eyes.

When his voice cuts in and out from the strain of transmitting from thousands of miles away.

When he hasn’t even seen my face for several weeks on end.

My love tells me I am beautiful even when I don’t deserve it. 

My love tells me I am beautiful and I am starting to believe him.

Because when he tells me I am beautiful it isn’t what he’s seeing, my love tells me I am beautiful because of what he’s feeling.

Marry a Soldier and You Will Know True Love

You have never read a love letter until you have read one sent home to a soldier’s lover

And if you are not that soldier or his lover it is unlikely you will ever

Until their lives have waned and their years have been spent

And the pain of that distance has faded to a wistful reminisce.

You have never read a letter filled with so much palpable longing

And an honesty so profound it bleeds onto your fingers like spilled ink

And capped with a sign off of resignation and the literary equivalent of a sigh

As he hurries through the hastily scrawled pages to not say goodbye.

I love my soldier. I will treasure his hand written letters all the days of my life.

A soldier’s Wife

How?

How could we have known this love would be a source of both pain and ecstasy when you caught my eye under the dingy white tarp of that festival tent and the electricity of a coming storm danced under our skin?

That separation was inevitable and the string of fate would span an ocean, stretched as thin as a spider’s webbing, cutting into the flesh of our hearts where it knotted all those days ago when I looked back at you and knew life would never be the same?

How could I have known I would be so lucky as to possess a love that would cause such longing in the dark expanse of lonely nights?

How could I have known the blessing of the pain of missing you far outweighs the numbness of never having known you?

How could I have known that a deployment would make me love you even more than I ever dreamed a soul could love, deeper than the unknown depths of the ocean floor, longer than the infinity of this universe?

Someday

I know there will come a day

When our daughter does not know your absence

When the distance between you and her

Is bridged and Daddy returns

Home.

 

 
The day when playtime is physical

Not seen through the screen

Of a “smartphone” that still doesn’t understand

The power of human contact.

 

 
And the USO story times become fables

As you build forts under Minnie Mouse comforters

And she follows the words you point at as you read.

 

 
And you enjoy homemade cookies fresh from the oven

Still steaming when you crack them open.

 

 
And you come home to find our love for you is still the same.