This morning we will share
anniversary breakfast, read
hand-written cards and talk
in low
coffee voices though
our youngest is already awake,
sitting at the table
with us,
in the flickering
morning candle
light.

We will tell her about the day we
married and the white tulips
and the periwinkle
dresses and the weather like
today’s and the promise to love
each other
always.

My husband and I will talk
details of our week between
scrunch-eyed smiles,
bites of yogurt
and long breathed
memories.

I will notice again in photographs
the joy tears at the
altar and the way I held
my chin high
with almost startling confidence, knowing
I was linking arms with my love
and my best
friend.

Fourteen years now,
grateful.

Later this morning
I will drive south with my
mama for
the birth of my younger sister and
brother-in-law’s
wrinkled miraculous
third, and we will cry
and touch and
stand amazed as
we watch hearts burst wide open to embrace
this new glorious life
with his own cry and his own eyes
and his family that oozes love,
just oozes it.

I will be so proud of my
sister I will hardly breathe.

This week l will let my heart rest in still places
between celebration and remember
pain and sacrifice that makes
joy,
all of this unbelievable
grace-filled, love-birthed
joy
complete.

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