His wife offered to take me to see him where he lives now at the Veterans Home.
She said, “I’ll be surprised if he recognizes you.”
“Well, I’ll be,” He said. “How long has it been,” when he turned and and saw me.
I burst into tears. I hugged him, burrowed into his shoulder.
He patted my back. I patted his eyes as clear and blue as I remembered.
He looked healthy, his voice the same.
Slightly bent back, stooped yes but still tall, slender, dressed neat and clean.
He was just so real.
I shake my head at this swell of emotion; not regrets, but confusion.
I met him when the military sent him through Vo-tech training on the GI Bill.
He became a wage-earning contributing member of society. training in order to become a wage-
I took training as well to become contributing member of society as well.
He told me stories about his Viet Nam tour of duty
Of how, “the Military dog did all the work,” guarding the camp perimeter.
Stories. Trench foot from feet that never dry.
He showed up for a date on a motorcycle, me dressed in a floor length evening gown.
Do all night janitors hoist their honey, their hussy, their chippy up on the boss’ desk,
when she shows up wearing only a fake fur coat?
Do they leave their DNA on the navy blue dress? Lights out when they leave? Do all
custodians offer marriage after the abortion?
I try to remember why I said no when he asked me to marry.
He was too bossy. Said he was going to rid of any reminders of mee–the quilt I made for him.
He was the one who put my kids’ bikes together one Christmas.
I would send cards on remember his birthday. We were the same age.
He phoned my daughter to ask about me.
Was that jingle, “For better or worse”?
Marriage is a highway with pot holes, bad drivers, road signs, and toll booths demanding money.
His room at the VA was neat orderly, precise you might say.
His wife said, “That’s his Military background,” austere but bare except for grooming items.
“Careful. Watch for ice,” He said as we walked from her car to a restaurant.
He covered whatever dementia he had with comebacks, “Hm-m-m,” or “I don’t know.”
Confused about the limits. Tears now that he is hers. Violate her borders?
Rubbed his shoulders as he sat in a chair. As we toured we held hands.
He paused to remove the wedding ring from his left hand as he held my right.
His wife introduced me to people there as his girlfriend.
Back in the day I objected to calling them boyfriend. They were not boys, they were men.
A man we know whose wife is in early onset senility said “It’s like raising a kid!”
It was time for me to leave. He said thank you. So did I.
While she waited outside in her car
He and I watched the elevator doors slide slowly shut between us.
Did he kiss the top of my head? Did I just imagine it?
Or was he just hungry for warm touch?
We’re over the hill, not down the drain.
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