Behind Our House

Later, when you have grey
around the edges, poking
out of brow and beard, and my body has sunk
into my middle,

you’ll say, things like “yes dear” and “whatever you prefer love” because anything else is too much effort
and you will have learned the lesson
of fifty years
of not being right.

And I will have ceased to sigh at the sight of unwashed dishes on the counter,
empty
toilet paper rolls,
and peanut butter smeared across the fridge.

We will have traveled the seven seas
And one more,
just to be sure that we truly lived.


Children grown, grandchildren growing and the two of us closing in on
‘til death do us part’ – like toddlers
we’ll revert to order;
a scheduled day of planned naps,
graham cracker snacks and favorite television programs we just can’t miss –
Bicycle Racing and Wild America vs. Lifetime and Court TV.
I’ll cook soft food and put dinner through a juicer.

Behind our house, a bicycle trail snakes its way up the mountain, where we ride
our tandem, taking turns with the peddles
and stopping to take in the view, catch our breath and talk of what
has changed and what has stayed
the same.

At night, I’ll lotion my calves and fill a hotwater bottle
for my achin’ back and you
will fall asleep in the big chair by the window
with the dog on your lap, listening to the radio as it talks you to sleep.

And each morning we will look to see if our partner in life
and love
is still breathing,
still pink,
still there.

-by Froggymama