A Cold September Afternoon

I’m glad we decided to do this.

You’re so beautiful. That’s why I have to write this. Maybe someday I’ll let you read these words. And can I ask you a favour? If you do read this, please don’t laugh. I’m not sure I could bear it.

Do you remember the first time we met? The very first time, not our first date or the first time we spoke, long before that all. We were in school, at lunch, I think. It was shortly after my dad died. I was sitting alone on the steps. I’m not sure if I was actually crying but that’s the way I remember it now. Sorry for looking like such a sissy, babe, but maybe that’s why it started. You brought me that flower. I found it the other day, actually. Strangely enough it’s wedged into an old Archie comic.

And our first date – the donut mill! Did you hear they’ve torn it down? They should’ve done it a long time ago, before I had time to make the mistake of taking you there. What I was thinking, I can’t say. But you put up with it and put up with me. Another mystery.

You know, I’m glad we decided to do this - all of this. Have I told you? I’m ecstatic. I might not show it but I am. I still don’t know what I would be doing without you. I don’t think I would be happy – I’m sure I wouldn’t. The years with you have been the best of my life. I don’t know what it is I like best about you. I could make a list but I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear it. Regardless, you are beautiful – more than beautiful. The way your hair shimmers in the wind, the way the sun catches your eyes, the way your body curves…

You’re a goddess.

I’m sorry, I know you don’t like flattery. Compliments! Compliments!

You know, forget what I said earlier. I do know what I like best about you. Would you like to know? It’s that you are you - nothing more and nothing less. You are the winsome drifter, untied to any location. You are the suave bohemian, letting your life live but making it your own.
Remember your sister’s going away party? I have to tell you a secret. I fell in love with you for a second time that night. It wasn’t that I became more in love with you; it’s not a matter of more or less, it’s that there you showed me another side of you. How many years had we been dating? When you gave your speech (you must remember it) it was like you opened a door. The mysteries that you hold!

And here we are, married. Another mystery that I’ve yet to understand! How could I have held onto someone as amazing as you for this long? We’ve come so far, yet the journey has felt short with you by my side.

You’re part of me, I realize that now. We’re not two people but one.

And I suppose I also owe you an apology. More than one. For all the fights we have had, for all the times I have made mistakes I’m sorry. They were my mistakes and, even if I did not have the courage to own up to them at the time, I knew it in my heart. Neither of us is perfect. I understand that now.

And the funeral. Of all things, this pains me most. I did not mean to abandon you in your moment of need. I’m not as strong a man as I once was; you must know that. I couldn’t face up to reality. When I heard your father had died, I was taken back to that moment, crying upon the school steps. And how badly I wanted to be the one to bring you a flower, to lift your chin, to make you smile. But I was a little boy again, afraid of the world. I ran away. I hated myself for it. I have apologized before but words can’t express the regret that stains my heart.

But you forgave me. You forgave me. You took this foolish old man back into your arms and your heart. You told me you understood.

And how many years have we come since then? And life hasn’t been perfect, it never is, but it’s been better with you at my side. Hot coffee and Sunday paper, there is something that can’t be put into words. I used to think you were crazy for sitting on the porch every morning during the winter but now I think I understand.

I remember once talking with you about Vonnegut, or was it Salinger? It doesn’t matter. It was then that I realized that I couldn’t stand to go on without you. If anything were to happen to you…

It would be like climbing a mountain without legs, like trying to talk without a mouth. We’re two old hermits, tied tight to each other. We’ve had such a good life, haven’t we?

Have I told you that I found your flower the other day? It fell out of one of the books that I gave to Jeremy. Where is it now?

Oh yes, I took it to the funeral last week. And isn’t that awful – I can’t even remember who’s funeral it was. You’ll have to excuse me; my memory is going. I need to catch up with it. (I’m sorry, another bad joke. You know I’m fond of them.) You were there at the funeral, that’s right. I gave you the flower then, didn’t I? I was there for you – one funeral that I could help you through. Oh, it was the most beautiful reception. I remember crying a lot. There was something so sad about the whole thing.

But I shouldn’t dwell. We’ve still got each other, haven’t we?

We should have tea later on, or perhaps some carrot cake, like your mother used to make. My you need to put on some pounds, my lady! The nurses walk right by you without even noticing. In fact, you know where we should go? We should go to the old donut mill. Wouldn’t that just be perfect? You look as beautiful as the day I met you. More beautiful. We should go somewhere, away from these rude people; they keep interrupting our conversations. We should go to France. How is your mother doing? Perhaps we should visit her, it has been a while, hasn’t it? And your father, I’ve never apologized for breaking his shed door that one winter. Well it’s never too late I guess. Now help me out of this bed. I want to ask you to marry me.