You want the moon?
The moon is nice, but want I really want is more time. Today is our anniversary. Eight years of love, laughter, life. Michael brought me flowers, which he does each week on his way home from work - the usual stargazer lilies because he knows how much I love the fragrance, but today they were bigger and filled with various shades of green. And he gave me two handmade necklaces; one, a locket with an engraved poem by EE Cummings, and the other, words from George Bailey: "What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down." And he has. He's given me the moon. My George Bailey, whose life is filled with things that money can't buy - love, friendship, family. And every day I look at him and feel the same as Mary: "George Bailey, I'll love you till the day I die."
But life has dealt us some blows and I've yet to fully recover. I can still see him on that hospital bed fighting for his life, unable to breathe without a respirator. There are days I look at him, or just hold him at night, and my fears set in. The unspeakable question: "What would I do without you? How could I live without you?" But then I bring myself back to the present and I feel all kinds of grateful, for this man, for his strength, for his ability to fight. And I hear the words he told me after he survived: "I'm too in love to die." And I keep the faith, in him, in us, in our friends and family, and love.
"Well, then you can swallow it, and it'll all dissolve, see... and the moonbeams would shoot out of your fingers and your toes and the ends of your hair..."
Posted at May 15, 2013 7:26 PM