For Leatrice and Sam
Mother and Father
Grandmother and Grandfather
On the Occasion of your 56th Wedding Anniversary
Some people think miracles are hard to find.
Hidden in the pages of the Bible.
Or buried with the bones of saints.
Exhumed and preserved on pillows in cathedrals.
Some people think miracles are the magic
of the tooth fairy or Santa Claus.
Or of finding pots of gold at the end of rainbows.
Some people think that miracles abound around us.
A rose’s scent, a snowflake, a dewdrop.
Or a newborn baby, the link that pushes us toward tomorrow.
But thinking miracles is not for me.
Thoughts and miracles make poor batter.
I like to live my miracles.
To feel them deep inside my female self.
A rush, a twinge, a tickle.
A pop, a jar, a peep.
The pungent smell of lemons invading the nostrils with a start.
The jolt of pepper on the tongue.
Raindrops on the skin.
My miracles are muses.
Giving me permission to metabolize a slice of bread.
With all the gustatory pleasure of the finest pastry.
To transport myself from mundane meanders on Mayo Place
to windy, winding promenades along the seacoast of Gijón.
My muses amuse and bemuse.
Encourage me to muse
on the ordinary as if it were sacred.
And so I do, reveling in the miracles of the day-to-day.
Like recovery from illness.
The mewing and mewling of Mother Katz
learning to walk again.
Encircled by supportive teams of gardeners
who tended their most prized flower, an orchid.
Which, by having wilted, offered them a treasure chest of riches.
The opportunity to give back the love of more than a half century.
Together they walked a path from summer to fall to winter.
To the place of new beginning.
A new mews of retirement and quietude.
To mutually enjoy pleasures of daily miracles.
As children’s children blossom and evolve.
With each new day there is potential for a miracle.
A marvelous event that amazes the senses.
Today is no exception.
For we have a miracle of sensuous proportions:
a marriage that has
sung and danced,
spun and twirled
played and teased,
sat and read,
worked and learned,
fought and kissed,
laughed and cried,
wined and dined,
embraced and sowed
an entire clan
in only fifty-six years!
So, together let’s celebrate this marvel,
this marriage, this couple
who have breathed life into a story.
Our story, the stories of our children.
And the stories yet untold.
With love, Lynn
(December 22, 2002 )
