On a morning in late January the first year after Marianne died, I was taking the usual walk that Marianne and I took together so many times, walking hand-in-hand. I felt her presence, as if she were walking beside me now even though we were on different planes. Words started to come together in my mind, and when I returned home I wrote down this poem.

 Together we walk, my love
 Together we see the bright crocus
 Promise of spring to come
 Together we feel the wind in our face
 The joy of the open air
 A stirring in our hearts
 A sense of happiness and rightness
 We are glad to be here and to be together.
 Ego knocks on the door
 We smile and say go away
 Fear comes calling, you will lose the words
 We are not concerned.
 It is feelings, not words
 Silence, not the sound
 The present moment, not the treasury of times past
 The magic and mystery of our life
 The awe and wonder of our life to come
 We are together now and always
 We’ve only just begun. 

January 30, 2013

This morning I took our familiar walk and again saw crocus. It felt right to re-post the poem in honor of Valentine’s Day.

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