Recently we got a chance to zoom with a couple who are on the edge. His health is in decline and time is not in their favor. In the past year since his diagnosis, they have not changed their priorities, as much as they have come in for a closer look. They already knew they loved their adult kids, and grandchildren. But instead of seeing them when it works out, they are cramming visits in with intensity. Last summer they all went to the desert to gaze at the red rocks and savor the sky. Ignoring the distance between them, often they just start the car and go. The words that mean the most float to the top, while insignificant irritations sink to the bottom. There is an effort to jam ten years worth of affection into the seasons that are left, and in most pictures they are touching. And smiling.

 

Because he is still here. 

 

Part way through the evening John left early. He needed to be somewhere else and I realized too late that I missed the chance to hug and say I love him. Do I really need a crisis to come closer to the beauty of a shared life? 

 

But today is a new beginning, and the birds outside my window sing to the promise that awaits me if I come close.