Quill #116 - True Love

Over the course of thirty years together, Peregrin and I have come across occasional female friends who, for whatever reason, don't care as much for me and think he's the bee's knees. Inevitably, we have a conversation initiated by them about how Peregrin and I met. This topic can come up in innocent discussions, too. But, with certain women, the underlying message is that Peregrin is too good for me, why is he with me, why does he stay with me, and other questions that might explain how this wonderful man became my husband and then actually stayed with me for a lifetime. These women see Peregrin as he is now, after ten, twenty or thirty years of hard work together; they see what a gem he is now, and they want one just like him - or him.

To these women, I say, "Tough!" Nobody gets to thirty without effort. And nobody stays together for thirty years without reason. We met when we were eighteen years old, married at nineteen. Do you honestly think either of us was much more than potential at that point? We got here together, supporting each other through thick and thin, crying together in hard times and celebrating the bad with the good. And, trust me, there were a lot of difficulties in that space of time that required both of us to grow and cope and learn to laugh. You can't take that away. You can't find it in someone else's life. You can't fake that kind of bond, borrow it, or steal it. There are reasons why he and I trust each other and it has a lot to do with what we've survived as a couple. I wasn't the me you know now, back then, and neither was he. If you want him, you'll have to wait till I'm gone and then work YOUR butt off to be worthy of him.

In each other's care, we discovered science fiction and our own fantasies, raised two and a half children, played games together, survived death and depression, kissed on stage, moved twenty times, suffered through illnesses and despair, learned each other's foibles, traveled alone to faraway lands and returned to inviting arms. We've been poor together and wealthy with love. To quote The Princess Bride: "You can't harm me. [Peregrin] and I are joined by the bonds of true love. And you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds. And you cannot break that, not with a thousand swords."

Quill #95 - 30 Years (2010)

I promised you, Love,
To be here when the rains came,
When lightning crawled over our heads.
I swore to be with you
On sorrow-filled sleet days,
Through poverty, illness, till death.

You promised the same, Love,
And here we're together,
Our children moved far from our hearth.
We both kept our promise and,
Though there were trials,
Survivors, we never did part.

We were not alone, Love,
Even when we felt lonely,
For islands are rarer this day.
Our family grew bigger,
Some born, some from marriage,
And some we adopted from fae.

Many years passed, Love,
And dark days were common,
But more were the hours spent in fun.
If I had to do over
I'd choose the same memories,
And you would be my only one.

But, if I had time, Love,
To do it all over,
I'd not repeat our lives again.
I'd add ever more years
That we'd spend together,
Choosing today to begin.

(images from personal archives and Lolcats)

Quill #94 - Upon the Marriage of Our Son and the Gaining of a Daughter (2006)

As a babe, your eyes were lined with care.
At two, you knew more than a child should bear.
Your voice, throughout the years, has grown more strong,
Deep enough to share another's song.

We enjoy the addition of a heart.
A daughter more will be a blessed start,
To what we hope will be a happy life
With young ones, pets, a warm and loving wife.

Just don't forget that you are still our son,
And more than that, were sibling number one.
No pow'r on earth can take us from your side.
We stand by you, your children, and your bride.

If future trials make your song feel weak,
To carry on as needed, do not seek
A path that takes you ever far from home.
For solace, there is no need to roam.

What we can, we will do; it's our role.
May your songs, joined together, make you whole.

Quill #92 - Autumn Nights (1983)

I sing a new song,
A song of joy,
And love that soars the skies.
Springtime passion,
The days of summer,
Turning to Autumn nights.
We sing an old song,
A song of content,
And moonlight reflecting on snow.
Winter romance,
Dancing the slow ones,
Watching the children grow.
I sing a new song;
We sing an old song,
Both songs singing of life.
Our love's the same love,
Changed in but one way,
Built by the sharing of strife.

Quill #22 - A Marvell-ous Response (1995)

To those who would rush me before my time,
Speaking blithely of joys of the flesh,
You claim you hear chariots approaching behind
As though Death, at your shoulder, stands ready to thresh.

Truth is, if you value my heart and my mind,
And not merely desire my form,
Is it not worth it to you to be gen'rous and kind?
Or am I but a jewel to adorn?

There are joys in the hunt and the chase, in all life!
One can choose to forego parts of that.
But regret follows those who dispense with a rite.
Courtship ought to be more than a doff of the hat.

The game is to separate the chaff from the wheat,
Would you hasten me out of my dole?
If you have not the patience to wait for my meat,
How much time will you give for my soul?

Quill #13 - Becoming One

There's a certain aura surrounding couples who are supposed to make it through the rough patches of life and into old age with each other. You can almost see the strands of love between them when they share a special look, continue to have passion after the second, seventh and twentieth blush of the romance, even after children come along to seal the deal. It's a kind of emotional bondage and it becomes stronger over time.

When a certain good book mentioned leaving your parents to "cleave to another" and "becoming one," I used to think that was poetic license for moving out and having sex, preferably within a legally sanctioned, morally approved marital contract. I have discovered there is a deeper truth.

Most of my insights in this life have come to me because I made mistakes, big ones. And sometimes I didn't learn the lesson until years later, when I finally understood what my mother was trying to tell me. We seldom agreed but she was no fool.

For couples in love, according to songs the planet over, there's always a sense of "us against the world." My mom was more blunt. She told me I had blinders on. She tried to talk to me about my husband, in the early years of marriage, and I know his parents tried to talk to him about me. Of course, such talks always made us angry with our parents and more ingrained in the "us against them" mentality, clinging to one another as if drowning in a sea of opposition, with only each other to hold us afloat.

Such comparisons are lovely until you find yourself having to deal with what seems like pigheadedness in someone you used to understand. You thought you knew this son or this daughter. They were completely reasonable and intelligent people. Then, one day, but only if their significant other is involved, they put on their dark glasses and howl at the sun. And, it isn't just one or the other, it's a pact between them. Sometimes you wonder why they can't see that they've just turned into werewolves, but they can't. I couldn't. Nobody can, not if they're truly bound.

I love our children, all of them. I love the ones that married into the family, that we adopted, that adopted us, and the ones who were miracles of modern medicine. They're all important to me. But, there's a steep learning curve to an empty nest. Suddenly, half the news reports on TV have no relevance to you. You're never going to deal with schools again, won't need to know the latest toy recalls, or explain the birds and the bees. You've done that and, good or bad, your work is finished. All that's left is cleaning up the house and spoiling the grandkids. And you have to stay on good terms with the parents if you want access to the progeny.

Being the mother-in-law is always a precarious position. One sure way to fail is to point out the daisies that are opening up and turning their heads, or to mention that your neighbors are cutting their grass, or that everyone else is having to squint. When your son or daughter is insisting there's a moon, best to look at the trees and listen for hooting, 'cause you're never gonna change the basic truth that love is a rose with gigantic thorns, and it's far too easy to get stabbed through the heart.

My mom was really good with owls.

Quill #10 - Thief in the Night (2001)

We lived in her upper room
Until you stole my life.
I would have given you money,
Why did you take my wife?

A million wives you've had till mine,
A million more someday,
Biggest polygamist in time,
Orgasmic when they pray.

Lost and hungry, cold, alone,
Twelve steps away from any home,
No lighthouse beacon ever shone.
No foghorn warned me not to come.

I don't know where to go from here.
Brother, can you spare advice?
Lost the passport to my future.
For what crime did I pay this price?

I never thought I'd lose her.
There is no higher court to sue.
No mortal man can ever win
Against a groom like you.

Quill #7 - From That Day Forward (2001)

They drove us to a tiny junction
Where water and sky and city
All met at once
On a uniform patch of white rocks.
And the overlap was such a sublimation
From city to nature
That the epiphany disarmed us,
Tom with me,
My sister with Tom's friend,
Both men warriors,
Strict among others,
But free with us
At that moment,
And we free with them.
We women,
In our breathable pants,
Stuck toes in cold water,
Cooing,
And fell in.
And their laughter overflowed,
But was gentle,
Kind, not cruel,
Tender and warm,
Like the coats they wrapped around us
Till our own raiment dried.
Then was the day he decided
What I'd already known,
That man and nature could not live apart
Without the loss of both.
We married the next September.
But his humor,
And the love in his eyes
Throughout our lives together,
Was his vow.