This Dance
by Lyn Mainello
The
restaurant we met at does not stand there any more.
It's
been replaced by office space and burger shacks and stores.
The
bars we used to frequent have been revamped, demolished, razed.
And
we just start another day completely undeterred or phased.
We've
shared full-on belly laughter. We've wept way too many tears.
We
have clung tight to one another facing foreign, frantic fears.
We've
rejoiced at countless weddings. Sat stoic for many a funeral mass.
We
have buoyed one another when we've run entirely out of gas.
We've
been overwhelmed at births. Been sidelined by failing health.
Suffered
through the 'old person's room,' and been comfortable in our wealth.
We've
watched the world get wacky. We've seen devastation, loss and grief.
We've
lost parents, friends and siblings; time is often a heartless thief.
We
have stabilized one another as the storms of life set in.
We've
crumbled under untold weight, much to our chagrin.
We've
wandered near and far; stood on mountains, swam in seas.
We
froze in an unheated living room; melted at games in a hundred degrees.
We've
been lifting at the gym. Racquetball-ed ourselves to death.
There's
not a day that we have shared where your dimples don't catch my breath.
"Pool
Boy," "Dead-End Daddy," "Mr. Calm and In Control."
"Punkinhead"
and "Pop Pop" and my favorite Seminole.
There're
conversations in our glances; words need not be spoken.
I
just cannot express enough, the satisfaction when you fix what's broken.
I
am thankful for your grace; enmeshed in your skewed romance.
I
am humbled by your tenacity. I am grateful for This Dance.
