for months, I’ve wondered
about the whatifs and the howlongmustIwaits—
so tired, so frustrated, so impatient was I—
but on this evening, as the snow begins to fall,
I hear you cry and I realize
that it is not always about the questions we ask amongst our discontent,
but rather,
the answers we gather as we comfort one another:
we wrap warm woolen blankets around each other’s shoulders and
we listen for the tea kettle whisper and
we hold hands
[just holding hands]
and wait for the right time for the other to speak.
because sometimes, getting what we thought we’d wanted for years
[so many tears, so many tears]
pales in comparison to helping someone else we cherish get through just one day.
so rather than asking the
whenwillyourealize or the
howcouldyounotnotice and the
whenwillyouwakeupandsee—
let us instead ask the
whatdoyouneeds, the
howcanIhelps, and offer the
{Iloveyou,nowwhat?}s
when you cry on the line—
the one we listen to, and the one we’ve both walked upon
(but never crossed)—
know that, yes, I’ve loved you for some time,
but I’m making the decision to be what it is you need
(whistle, whistle, whistle)
rather than begging silently for what I would like.
so sit down on that old porch swing, and stay awhile,
and wait for me to grab the hot water off the stove.