It’s raining; a mist so soft it is weightless.
It’s powerful though, its strength masquerading in a subtlety that would pass unnoticed if it wasn’t for the damp that muzzles your bones and flows deep into your soul.
Autumn is upon us, the crimson rowans rich, the dark nights skulking in preparation for months of lingering as heavy as sin.
The bells of change are ringing, we’re knee deep in its music, notes glimmering like pebbles on a river bed, our toes clinging to its assorted contours.
The tune of the moment is the one my daughter has chosen to walk down the aisle to. A week today, she is getting married, to her love, to her son’s father, to the man that I trust to be her loving partner in life.
She will be beautiful. She is beautiful.
My son, my strong handsome son, will be at her side, as will I, as we walk down the aisle in step, edging beyond the landscape of guests until we reach the sea mist that will settle in the back of our throats and filter into our lives. Lives that will rock and sway and flow beyond the autumn and its beautiful, weightless, rain.
This moment will linger like a laugh line and when we each stare into a looking glass we will continue to walk in step. As a family, in tune.
Close close all night by Elizabeth Bishop
the lovers keep.
They turn together
in their sleep,
close as two papers
in a book
that read each other
in the dark.
Each knows all
the other knows
learnt by heart
from head to toes.