On the way

Today on the way to Writer’s Group, you returned to me.

Or maybe you were always there, and I didn’t see you.

It’s not that I haven’t felt your presence before.

I have.

But the presence I have felt was the presence of the woman with whom I shared the last of our fifty-four years together and not the girl you were when we first met.

The memories of her—you, life partner for fifty-fout years—overlaid the memories of you—the girl I fell in love with and married and made babies with and raised children with and shared a life with.

And never, ever ended sentences with prepositions with.

I missed that girl and the many versions of you that she became as we travelled together.

But Love always wins.

Love awakened me to the presence of love, and also to a love that was still lost—or perhaps misplaced.

Or perhaps present but unseen.

Recognition brought tears of joy. The tears that always come to me at the end of a rom com when everything is about to turn out right.

Groundhog Day.

By that I mean the post I wrote, not the movie.

Every day is Groundhog Day.

And today was the day that the girl I fell in love with reappeared in my mind.

She was laughing—as you laughed.

She was bright and sparkling—as you are.

You are with me now, as I write this.

I can turn my mind to you, and you are there.

There is work to do.

More to recover, to remember, to recreate.

But for now, I will rest in love.

And share this,