In Your Eyes

In your eyes I see the reflection of thirty seven years.
Thirty seven years of marriage. Thirty seven years of life.
And love.

I see the beginning, the spark, the reason.
A spectacular winter wedding that even a blizzard could not kill.
A sign of resilience to come.

The first and last apartment, underground with a heated
garage, a stolen cat named Bandit, an upstairs neighbor named Bunny.

In your eyes I see our first home. Quirky and familiar; the home
you grew up in.
I see two small boys and feel pure joy again.
Hear the laughter and miss the innocence.

I see their comfort in your care, your wisdom,
your insight.
Knowing they were safe, physically and emotionally,
brought me peace.

In your eyes I see our second home, the one we share
alone together now.
I see small boys becoming men, eventually leaving. 
Proud college graduations and lives begun, as aspects of our life ended.
The sudden shock of a quiet home.

In your eyes, sometimes, I see anger.
Disappointment and pain.
Worry.
I see tears and the evidence of tears and wonder how
often I am the cause.

Life reflected in its unpredictability, folly and cruelty.

In your eyes I also see resilience.
Love redefined. Shaped through experience.

I see the future.
Decades to come.
New perspectives, realities, and challenges.
Happiness grown deeper, love more powerful.

I know my eyes reflect much the same, but it's
not my eyes that I love.