Deuces

That city noise was yours, And never really mine, I did my part  To say, again, That city noise is fine, Your say nothing stance; My verbal dance, Were going nowhere, But back. You always chose where, The how, The when; And I’d wait, Again. Who I am; I like quiet, The dark, And space, Feelings taken with grace, Though I often miss  your face. (I often miss your face.) Your chuckle, And gait, Occasional wit, Smile, Eyes, And one special lie, I often miss your face. 

Occasionally, my husband lies. It’s usually about the food I make. I’m not sure why.  It’s not bad.  Usually healthy.  Usually carefully crafted. Oftentimes an elaborate recipe that calls for cumin and garlic salt and other seasonings in the back of the cupboard + some somethings diced and lots of pots and pans to clean.  “I ate already” he’ll say. And I’ll guilt him into at least trying what I’ve made.  And then he lies. For like, The next 10 minutes. Going on and on about how good it is... how I’ve outdone myself, how it’s the best thing he’s has in a long time, how’s he ‘going to take some to work tomorrow’.  And of course I’m not around to substantiate that he’s actually eaten what I’ve carefully crafted. There are a lot of things my husband will let me do for him.  Laundry, arranging medical appointments, buying him clothing... But food. He doesn’t eat the food I make.  (Without lying). Pants on fire.

The late flight to Oakland. The quiet flight.  Extra space and no one beside me. This. This is the flight where I’ll find time to write. Listening to Luke Combs. Just loud enough I can hear him sing about a Beer Can... Memories... some other stuff. *Shrugs I bought the album on a whim.  I do that kind of thing.  I hear a song I like and I take a chance on the whole album. Something to entertain me on these flights.  More than the norm as late.  More trips, More people, More getting to know, Learning, More climbing, On an airplane, Into the sky.  I think of my babies. Alana, always aloof as I walk out the door. Sayler, sometimes with a few tears in her eyes.  “Don’t say “gone””, she pleads, as I assure her “I’ll only be gone for 2 days.... back before your soccer game on Saturday...” I know she’ll be okay.  Better than okay. Sayler is many things. Resilient. Independent. Loving.  Confident and funny.  The other night she realiz