22 Years

22 years ago. Me: mini skirt, white-fringe cowboy boots, sly smile. Her: wide-collar, baby-blue polyester button down, guarded green eyes, triple Aries fire, cruising me carefully. Backstage in Cary, North Carolina when I thought love meant being saved.

The next night, an ice storm rocked us in her electric arms. The leaves crystal chandeliers, tinkling and starlit. Transformers exploding in great big BOOMS, lighting up the sky and showering the bigness between us in hot, white sparks.

So I made her wait, cozy in my old-fashioned bed, watching Buffy reruns, coloring velvet paintings, traipsing around with the Super 8 gang and the sister wives in my rusty silver Volvo, flying through seven minutes of heaven, singing endless rounds of ‘what’s for dinner’ with worn guitars on the gardenia-scented porch.

Until I finally surrendered to her and the Wild Kingdom with its dusky motorcycle rides, midnight dog walks, naps in the lazy Georgia heat, wild horses across the Badlands, full body floats in the gold-green river, her banks fluttering with periwinkle butterflies and smooth, sandy holes for the dogs to cool their hot coats. It was all the saving we needed.

Then love notes tucked in suitcase pockets. Single bunk. Overnight drives. So many states. So many pictures with one of us missing. Cold, one-wheel nights. Burning up in the other fires we warmed ourselves against. 

Generations of four leggeds died in our arms. Soda Pop swallowed a poison lizard. Jack’s mind slipped away. Bunjii lumbered up to rainbow ridge. Their eyes in ours as the light fell away, powerless to save or be saved, their last breath warm on my wrist. 

But then Ozie. Ozie. Ozie. Watching as her soul burst into light. An unparalleled joy, our hands covered in dirt, brownie mix, and glitter. Our laughter echoing around the horizon, the water carrying us swiftly down to Amy, waiting under the glowing sun to catch us before the rapids. 

All these sweet and salty years. Never married but continually chosen. Or is it simply that we continually choose?

To show up. To save ourselves just enough to find each other. 

22 more? Maybe. Maybe not.

But just for today, it is enough.