I Imagine You Flying

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Two weekends before our wedding, Kathy and I were in Boston. I had a conference there, and she has family in the area, including her mother, grandmother, sister, brother-in-law and niece. So we wove together work and family for a few days. Every moment was a joy, but Kathy had to fly back to DC on Monday morning, while I stayed to work through till Wednesday. I wrote the following the day she left.

I Imagine You Flying

I imagine you flying
South, over the eastern coastline
Toward home, in D.C.
The aisle seat yours, this time
Without me there to take it
Without me asking you, instead,
To lean on me
For your breathing space

I imagine you in that dress
The one you wore to dinner, on Saturday
A goddess on my arm, and in my eyes
As we lingered over Thai in Back Bay
You
Not merely all I could see
But everything
I could ever remember having seen

I imagine you landing
Walking, along the glass-encased passages
At National, your patchwork bag
And your knitting, a recent obsession, both with you
The weight of the day's work
Settling into your shoulders, and me
Not there to ease it out

I imagine you in your glory
Riding train to train, into the District
A queen, too elegant to disguise
Too charmed to be unseen
Passersby, given pause
By your presence, and your poise, wondering
Who is she? Why, why don't I know?

I imagine the next two days
Wherein I, lonely, determined, explore
Old Boston, Quincy Market, the Common
The Harbor and Commonwealth Avenue
Staining my shirt during lunch, feeling
Your distance like a kite, tugging
Insistently, a constant call, a beckoning to take wing
Toward you

I imagine myself returning
My own flight, to you, longer than eternity
Me, missing the gentle pressure of you
Against my arm, the scent
Of your hair, the hotel shampoo
And seeing you, at last
On the far side of the security checkpoint
My beacon of solace, love and loving
Guiding me home


11.9.09