The Swings

We’ve laughed and played and had a great time. It’s almost time to head home. I sit still on the swing and draw circles in the dirt with the toe of my tennis shoe.

“I tell Chuck, “I hate that we aren’t living together anymore. I miss you.”

He reaches out to hold my hand. His hand feels as warm and strong as ever.

He softly says, “I know what you mean, but my leaving was unavoidable. It’s a job that I couldn’t turn down. I helping a whole lot of people.”

I nod my understanding, and after taking a deep breath, I change the subject, “Remember the time you saw the tiny turtle crossing the sidewalk? You picked it up and put it in your pocket.”

He laughed. “It wouldn’t have survived if I didn’t.”

“Then there was the time you brought home a dog that was starving to death, and we loved her until she was a tad roly poly..”

He nodded, and said, “I thought she looked like a little deer, so I named her Bambi, but we never called her anything but Baby Girl.”

“You were always so patient with me. My wheelchair gave me some limitations, but you were wise. You stood back and let me struggle just enough, and then you stepped in and did whatever I couldn’t. I learned a lot from you. While I miss having you at home, I can manage on my own until we can be together again.”

“Well…you were never helpless, and you have an independent streak as wide as the freeway that runs through El Paso. Besides, you’d have eaten me alive if I didn’t respect your strengths. You are a strong woman.”

I smiled, and said, “I can’t help it.” A moment of silence passed, and then I said, “Are you sure you can’t stay overnight? I’d sell my ex-husband’s soul for one of your omelets.”

His voice got softer. “Good memories sustain us. We are lucky. We never built a bad memory. Our home was always peaceful, we liked a lot of the same things, and …how come our miniature parrot liked you best?”

I patted his hand playfully, and said, “He was smart.”

He grinned, “You’re a sucker for smartness.”

“You know, there are some things that I owe you apologies for. One of my faults is always thinking that there has to be more to life. I sometimes wanted more than you could give. It wasn’t until you left, that I realized I had all that I needed. Life is a teacher.”

Apologies are often a two-way street. He admitted, “I wanted to get married, but you didn’t. It took me a long time to understand how we could love, but not tie the knot. Now, I realize how hard complete trust is for you. Honestly, while we never made it legal, we were married in our hearts and that is what matters.”

“I know.’

Not wanting to think about what couldn’t be undone, he cleared his throat, and asked, “The other day when you were going over to the store, I heard you say that Bobby was moving. Is he glad about the move? You said he was staying with “Sis” but you didn’t say if it was permanent.”

“I love your brother and I’m glad he stays in touch. He said they sold the building he was living in, but he’s been wanting to move for some time. I think Phyllis is a temporary stop, but as you know, all of our stops are temporary.

All in all, Bobby is doing fine. He calls often just to check on me, just like you asked him to.  

“What about my girls?

“Your girls have grown up, Chuck. Nan has turned into a wise young woman and Nicca’s marriage is a happy one. They are good people, and you had much to do with that. My Mary is a great mom, and my grandson wears her out, but Calia is graduating college soon, and I’m afraid she has a lot to learn the hard way – but she will be fine.”

Chuck and I sit quietly, letting the swings move gently of their own accord. I take comfort in knowing that no matter how much time we spend apart the park will always be here.

Chuck squeezed my hand, “What about you? How are you doing?”

“I admit it. When you first left, I was pretty numbed by it. I mean, I understood why you left, but that didn’t make it any easier. It’s hard letting go when you love someone.”

He smiled. “I’ve paid attention. It took you three years to start breathing again, and I’m sorry that it was so hard. It doesn’t mean that I love you any less, just because we can’t be together right now. We will be. We just have to be patient.”

“I’m okay now. I’m just glad that you stay in touch and visit when you can.” As a winter chill passes through me, I pull my coat tighter. “I need to head home.”

He whispered, “Me too.”

Chuck’s swing swayed with the breeze, and I glance up at the tree in front of me. Sitting on a low branch that had been picked clean by the season, was the most vibrant Red Cardinal that I’d ever seen. It’s Chuck reminding me of love. He sends one every Christmas.

Chuck passed on Christmas Day at 5 a.m., almost four years ago. The last year, he battled cancer three different times. One of his surgeries put him in bed for a month, and I just handed him three meals a day on a tray. For everything that he endured, he never seemed to feel sorry for himself. He simply took life one day at a time. He never lost his sense of humor, and the last weekend before he went into hospice care, was one of our best. He held me close, rearranged the apartment to make it more accessible to me, and ran errands to stock things he knew I would need. He took care of me until our last second. He was kind, gentle and loving. He was the bravest man that I’d ever known.

 I spent three years walking around under a dark, painfully suffocating cloud. I didn’t care whether I lived or died; nothing mattered. I tried to fix it on my own, I tried counseling, and I even caved in and let my doctor try and help me with medication. The truth is, the only thing that worked was time. When the time was right, a gentle wind blew the black cloud away. In its place is peaceful acceptance.

Today, I still have all of the great memories, but they aren’t painful anymore. When I do the things that he and I always did together, he still feels to be with me, and I’m happy about that. There are times when I try and reach things in the apartment that my giant put on a high shelf, and I mutter at him. “Damn, Chuck.

You know I can’t get that down without your help.” I can feel him laughing at me. 

Life is good.