#281 Song of Innisfree

by Jana Andrews

One year already? Nearly unfathomable!

Skin touching skin, she ached to nibble an ear as they lay next to each other, but she knew it was too early to make a fuss. Even the sun sleepily dreamed at 4:00 A.M. Luckily she knew how to wait.

How difficult could it be to wait a few hours? After all, they had been together for almost 34 years before they finally said their “I do”s.

Thirty-five years? Had it been that long since they first bumped into each other in college? Heads down in respective tomes, they—and Whitman and Yeats—collided. Pleasure reading. Later that day they shared poems over tea; they rarely spent a day apart since.

Unlike most of their couple friends, they actually enjoyed each other’s company.

Yes, their lives had been full: two children, five moves (two cross country), a dog, two cats, a tarantula, swimming lessons, karate, track meets, ball games, cheerleading, choir, honor roll, summer school, prom, and only one car destroyed in all that time (children!). Their youngest graduated last spring.

They didn’t need to get married. A piece of paper didn’t make their love more real.

But she wanted to, and so they did.

Thicker in some places, saggy in others—love didn’t erase signs of aging. The smile lines were the same—she loved those.

When orange hues finally burst over the water in the horizon, she slipped her arm around her wife, pulled her close and whispered, “Happy Anniversary.”