Coming together…

A seed is secretive,

it does not reveal itself too quickly…

— in A Seed Is Sleepy Diana Aston and Sylvia Long

On December 25th, 2005,

a friend invited me over to her house,

for an afternoon sherry,

before I was due to volunteer,

my gravy making skills,

for a turkey dinner…

This friend had recently met her husband,

through Lavalife,

and often said to me,

Little Buddy,

maybe one day you’ll be so lucky…

They broke the mold,

when they made this one…

I watched how she walked this man,

and the history,

of his seventeen ex-girlfriend’s,

nicknames and all,

in through her door,

and right into her bed…

In my mind,

especially when,

you are given a second chance,

the most important thing,

you can bring,

to the gift of marriage,

is a willingness,

to unpack your bags,

and leave it all behind,

through a process of transforming,

base metals,

into gold…

I watched her emaciation,

as their relationship wasted away,

in the depleted soil,

of anxiety…

I watched the pressure,

to get married,

and how after a hurried pregnancy,

during which she couldn’t stand,

the smell of him,

and couldn’t stop throwing up,

they had a beautiful new baby,

that he tossed,

all rigid into the air,

over and over,

breaking all responsible codes,

of health,

and safety…

I felt her older daughter’s suppressed rage,

expressing itself,

as eczema,

and chronic constipation…

I listened every night,

on the phone,

to her complaints,

of how he watched man cartoons,

in his office,

while she washed up,

the train wreck,

he made in the kitchen,

in the wake of an alleged,

gourmet meal…

And I heard her cry,

He doesn’t do a single minute of parenting…

I also knew,

that this,

was major passive aggressive backlash,

to her way,

or the highway…

I thought but didn’t say,

If this is what you call lucky,

could you please direct me to the nearest convent…

My notions,

of conjugal bliss,

are surrounded,

by temple boundaries,

the grace of God,

and a honey moon,

that lights every corner,

of the room,

even on a shady day…

And on that Christmas afternoon,

as I sipped sherry,

sitting on the chair,

across the living room,

from them,

while two girls were having mommy time,

in their bedrooms,

I wondered if it was standard,

operating procedure,

for Mr. Brokethemold,

to entertain,

his wife’s friends,

in his bathrobe,

while she scratched his calves,

with her long fingernails…

As his robe nearly fell on the floor,

I thought but didn’t say,

You may have invited me for drinks,

but it feels like there was plans for me,

to be the main course…

Then I got up and went to be of service,

somewhere else…

Friend got erased from the friend list…

She wondered what had gone wrong…

I was surprised that she couldn’t figure it out,

for herself…

The only words I could offer were,

Every relationship has its seasons,

and due to cumulative weather patterns,

ours has moved into winter…

Yesterday I noticed,

that after dying right down,

my Aloha Lily is pushing new shoots,

up through,

the brown soil and vermiculite…

I had my moments of doubt,

but I never gave up on it,

and the message got across…

Today when I was riding home,

from Little Gem’s swimming lessons,

I stopped,

for the first time,

at the Mediterranean Deli on Commercial Drive,

just as spinach pies emerged,

from the oven…

The owner reluctantly let me bring my bike into the store…

We got to talking,

and I saw the mistrust leave his eyes…

He came to Canada from Palestine forty-four years ago,

and would not trade this country for the world…

Nor would he trade Vancouver,

for Montreal…

He said,

Sorry if you’re from Montreal…

I laughed and said,

Don’t worry,

this time I’m not from Montreal,

or Jerusalem…

I am from here…

He said,

as he put his hand over his chest,

The only place I’d trade for Vancouver is Powell River…

I fell in love with it there…

For the price of a small city apartment you can buy yourself some land…

I want to go there and raise a herd of goats,

or sheep…

But its hard to give up this business,

even though it weighs on my shoulders,

and my health is suffering…

I said,

I have my own goat and sheep dream,

with horses,

and alpacas,

a couple of musk-ox,

and water buffalo…

And I can feel the weight,

of your heart’s longing…

You need to go…

During our conversation,

a man tried to push his purchase,

of frozen round cheese burek,

in front of me…

I told him,

You’ll have to wait…

Destiny is talking here,

and it is so much stronger than you…