We sat through the night,
unlocking puzzles
with magic words
and drowning out the sounds
of old funeral hymns
with laughter
and good red wine.
You spoke of travelling
to far off and exotic places,
peopled with colorful cultures
and filled with stories
of history and folklore.
I, in turn,
shared all of what I had;
recounting the tale
of Daniel’s battle with cancer,
my teenage granddaughter’s pregnancy
and my youngest son’s addiction.
There were never judgements in your eyes,
only the dancing light of the lamps
reflected in your brown eyes
and a kindness that never wavered.
You let me pour out my pain,
while you poured another glass of wine;
more that I have drank in years,
but I was safe with you.
I was always safe with you.
You brought out a little pendant
made of gold and jade
and told me that it was a talisman,
from East Asia
and that it was meant to bring peace
and good fortune to whomever wears it.
Such a silly thing,
but I took it
and I wore it.
As the night wore on,
you told me of your lovers;
none of which could stand
your gypsy lifestyle.
Bruno, the Italian business man,
who owned too many fast cars.
Johnathan, the writer,
who took the teaching job in London
and Charles,
the explorer,
who broke your heart in Argentina.
Then I poured the wine for a while
and you rested your head on my shoulder
and we decided that the world
was full of trouble,
full of awful people
and terrible circumstances,
but sure as God is in His Heaven;
we could endure it all,
together.
The lamps burned low,
we talked about Mom and Dad.
How Mom baked Christmas cookies in October
and dad would have them eaten by November,
with our help, of course.
How we loved the old house,
before we moved to Ottawa
and snow-days and summers at the cottage.
We made a promise,
to return to visit the old house
sometime next summer,
when the kids were out of school.
The wine finally gone,
and both of us wrung dry
of tears and laughter;
we went to bed,
but before I closed my eyes,
I thanked God for my sister
and asked Him to protect you.
And I know,
down the hall,
in the guest bedroom;
you were doing the same thing.
HG – 2016
