Once upon a time, I was on a business trip, alone in my hotel room at the ANA Hotel, overlooking Yerba Buena Park and the Moscone Center. I'd left my husband a voice mail message, then felt somewhat unsettled that I'd sounded too "needy" (an insecurity to which I openly cop, and struggle with much less lo' this decade and a half-ish later, thanks in no small part to his continuing streams and waves of love and generous patience). To help myself address how I felt, I wrote a little poem about leaving the message, using one of those 4"x 6" sheets of hotel paper (which is all-but-surely the only reason I can place which hotel it was, as there were a number of business trips at that time, many of them to San Francisco, where yes, I do always leave at least a piece of my heart).
Anyway, just this morning I again found the poem ~ as I have on occasion over the years, interpreting its meaning to myself in different ways at any given time of rediscovery, depending on the "phase" our marriage was undergoing at any said given time ~ tucked deep into the pocket of a pair of overalls I haven't worn in a long time (and also, in a way, rediscovered this morning). So multi-folded, so soft and torn and worn from years of handling and re-folding, so wanting to be read aloud with the delight I feel at this phase of our lives that, well... here's a go at it (^_^)
~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*