ONE

I remember the mornings
when Daddy and Momma
would so often play out their flirting routine;
Daddy enthusiastically aggressive,
Momma coyly beaming and evasive.

It was just like the kissing parts in movies.

We'd moan in disgust, cover our eyes,

and cautiously peer between the cracks our fingers made.

I remember the early afternoons
when Daddy stopped home for lunch.
His presence alone would make Momma shine
"Hello Beautiful," he'd say, no matter how she looked,
then hold her for a long, long time.

We'd be hungry sometimes

still, none of us minded the wait;

the food that they shared filled our souls.

We knew, above all, we were safe.

I remember the evenings;
that magic moment when Daddy would walk through the door;
the brief renewal of their reunion;
and the quiet, rhythmic, routine, passage of time
setting the table
rinsing the dishes
seeing to small repairs or homework projects
reading the scriptures
holding hands;
As if with a look they could read each other's minds at any moment.

They made marriage look easy.

As a 12 year novice, I've learned it is not.

     We work

     We watch

     We struggle

     We pray

I've witnessed a union that transcends all time.

How can I not try to follow?

My daughter calls them "Grandpa"

One word for Both.

An amazingly accurate assessment

for a three-year-old.

One brilliant morning they will waken

united as they should be

Mother, coy and beaming,

Father, eagerly aggressive for their game.

I intend to be there,

my companion at my side

ready to do the same.