Sunday, April 26, 2009

A Satisfying Sunday, In More Ways Than One

ll in all a great Sunday. My daughter and I spent several hours together without coming to blows. It was downright enjoyable. Of course knowing that she is leaving soon made it easier for both of us. I love her dearly, she is amazing and brilliant and hysterically funny. We know each other too well, are way too alike. We will miss each other terribly, but she is grown, needs to be on her own, needs to try and fail and try and succeed. And, she freely admits she is as ready to be away from us and back on her own as we are to have her gone. The next couple of weeks will be bittersweet, this parting will have a finality that her comings and goings from college never had. But it is time.

On another note, after shopping with my daughter, I came home to a husband bearing gifts, and insisting on a Sunday afternoon 'nap'. I feel somewhat uncomfortable discussing my youngest child and my husband's gifts in the same post. So, I will let someone else express my gratitude and delight in the man I married.

I first read this poem in high school, well before I understood at least some of it's meaning. I shared it with my husband way before he was my husband when we were "quite a new thing." (I do not mean to imply that I expect him to have any memory of any poem shared with him in our early days, unless it was in Penthouse penned by Miss July and printed on her stomach with a staple in the middle, or possibly in Mad Magazine. I am not that naive.) It still fits so well today.

i like my body when it is with your

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new.

e.e. cummings

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