As I sit by the bed holding your hand, I force myself to once again reflect on what the past was like, and try to compell myself to believe that the future will retain at least some of the past.
I can recall approaching the front door of your house with a small package, of my words, meant entirely for you, but without restriction on who they could be shared with. It made little sense to have any fear in my heart, but still I trembled as I pushed the button that would activate the signal to beckon a presence to the door, where I stood beneath the darkened sky on a cold summer eve. The door was opened by your mother, who despite never having met me and basing opinion solely on your stories of me, welcomed me with open arms into the house, and without pause took my coat then offered me a drink. She stated something about how you were running a little late but would be down shortly. Although I never actually recall accepting the offer for a drink I do remember that a cold glass of iced tea ended up in my hands. Despite my dislike of the beverage I forced it down with a smile on my face. I would have sworn that since I complained about iced tea so much that you would have said something to your mother at some point; possibly she was testing my convictions in a very subtle manner.
Your mother, she asked questions about where I worked, after ascertaining that I had completed all of my schooling (the implication of me being a few years your senior didn't seem to bother her). I recall being torn between promoting myself, in attempts to prove my worth, and being modest and reserved. As I tried to retain my stature I could tell that I was failing, as your mother had a quaint smirk on her face, symptoms of my obvious display of nervousness and discomfort. It was a relief to see you coming down the stairs.
I had almost forgot that I had brung you flowers and a poem that I wrote, coupled with a package of older writings of mine, which you had earlier requested to read. I extended the flowers to you, my entire arm was shaking and I'm sure it made for a pathetic display, yet nonetheless slightly heartfelt, and I could tell your mother strongly approved of me. As I started to read the poem I stumbled over the words. Seeing my uneasiness your mother retreated into the kitchen, which was just enough of a release for me to complete the words which I had begun to speak.
I clench your hand tightly and ask myself why. I need to know what had brought us to the point where I am holding your hand as you lie in a hospital bed. I can see the pain on your face, and how I know again it may be joy, I wish that just for now I can take it all away and help you rest. I lay my head against your side and gently stroke your hair hoping to help you drift easily into the still forboding night.
It was a slightly warm autumn evening that night we sustained our embrace for several hours on your front porch. We would have been later at the movies, but the silly game you were playing had somewhat backfired on you, but in the end it worked out for the better. You had told me your mother was out of town and that your father had requested you be home by ten in order to help him with some chores, when indeed he had said nothing of the sort. I think you were hoping for me to show some sort of rebellious side and defy the curfew, and weren't certainly expecting that I would have you home by nine thirty. I recall your dad answering the door and looking puzzled as to why we were back so early. I recounted what you had told me, he simply laughed, and in retort he continued, "To know that my daughter is out with you lifts the worry off my shoulders."
With that he basically closed the door on us, so we took the opportunity to sit on the all too standard porch swing that accompanied so many of the classic houses in this area. Into my twenties I still felt a little uneasy taking your hand, and the shock of you wrapping your arms around me and placing your lips against mine almost stopped my heart for just a moment. Without unlocking our arms from each other I can remember talking about our dreams for several hours. It must have been a lot longer than I remember, for at one point your father had come outside and asked if we'd like for him to make us an early breakfast, which not surprisingly broke our embrace and convinced me that I could go home. I still have this odd memory of your father apologizing to me the next day for interruption, and the way that he said it reached deep within in me, not as in probing, but with a kind of affection that seemed uncommon but comforting.
The nurse is injecting you with something now, and your teary eyes roll around in your head. The ceiling holds that dismal interest and captures your attention for long periods of time. All that I can do is speak softly to you and guide you through this pain while the staff scuttle bussily about their business. It just doesn't seem fair that we've spent so long together, and now this torture is yours alone.
Even in the wettest of spring seasons the desert expanse was still a barren wasteland. I'm never really sure how I discovered our place within this grand nothingness, but we were both so happy that I did. We would always walk into the dry dusty land and head towards a small outcropping, it overlooked more of the same about twenty feet below. The ground was perfectly flat and without interruption here, providing an optimal place to situate ourselves upon a spread blanket and enjoy a basket of fresh breads and crispy fruits.
I looked into your eyes and I could see you staring back at me. I had an apple in my hand, with a single bite out of it, yet the intense reflection of the joy in your watery sight had entirely pulled my attention away from the food before me. We sat there staring at each other, likely smiling, but I only know that I was seeing who you really were inside and that you were seeing the same in me. If another would have walked up to us at the moment they would have sworn we were wax figurines in a museum somewhere, a display of entrenched passion before the realized peak of desire. A radiated warmth from far within you always kept pulling me closer and allowed me to open my heart, but more importantly my soul, for you to explore and comprehend. A true matched affection ensued as the reverse was always true.
We were interrupted though. I felt something tugging at my arm, quickly followed by something pulling the apple out of my hand. It broke our gaze, as though you felt it at the same time, and our eyes drifted towards the disturbance. Before us stood this beautiful small bird with a relatively enormous apple in front of it. We couldn't help but laugh, this bird must have thought it was pulling a fruit from a tree we sat so still. Despite our reanimation the bird wasn't about to give up its prize and stood there pecking at it, eating some, losing bits, then eventually flying away with what it could carry. It is often said that animals are disturbed not by humans, but only human conflict, realized or not. A thought that we both shared that kept us together in a serene world of what I would no longer hesitate to call our love for one another.
You cringe in pain, but are unable to look at what is causing you the grief. I attempt to calm you and say that everything will be alright, yet I know full well that nothing will ever be the same again. The most positive result of the incessant proding of the doctor will be that my life will be changed forever, but I will always retiain my love for you.
Oblivous to the bitter cold that even managed to perpetrate the dry desert, we would take each other in hand and dance to the sound of a thousand birds on the same outcropping we had visited a hundred times before. Even in the winter the majesty of this wasteland was bewildering and only the beauty I saw in you could stop me from being overwhelmed by a sense of insignificance. In life it was often difficult to see the purpose for continuing, we had both struggled with this thought, at one time it almost pulled us apart, but now the unspoken truth of the matter kept our two complimenting souls locked together in an eternal waltz. Dancing to the coalesced sounds of nature and divinity I broke step to go down upon a single knee before you. And without even speaking a word the tears of joy that fell from your face and landed on mine spoke an undeniable accepting answer as I placed a small token of my affection upon your finger.
I think that at that moment we both lost our individuality, lost everything that once had been, and now were to become a singular union of a single entity that would have nothing break us apart. The stream of tears were likely the most water this desert had ever seen, and as the birds fell silent for just a moment, we knew that our continued dance was no longer chorreographed, but instead the actions of a unified existence waltzing to the silent music of divinity.
Now again we cry together, your tears of pain force tears of anguish onto my face. You squeeze my hand harder and beg for a new beginning to come. And at a moment of intense climatic conclusion you give a final scream, the doctor withdraws to a solemn moment of silence, and the expression falls from my face as your eyes close and your body falls limp to rest and changes our existence forever...
...you awake to hear the sound of my crying, but they are tears of joy unified with those of another. We know now again that everything has changed and our love expanded, as I hand to you, wrapped in a blanket, that which is our first born child. My arms embracing you, and yours in turn the child, all cries subside and a newborn strength becomes us.