Oh, what opposites you and I.
I like numbers, you like words.
I need the big picture, you need the details.
I love spring, you love fall.
I hate winter, you hate summer.
I get up early, you stay up late.
You look at the mountains and say,
“Oh, what beauty! The smoky mist, the colors, the hues . . .
“Amazing what tectonic plates colliding will do,” I respond.
Cookies: chewy for me, crunchy for you.
Steak: pink in the middle please; yours, brown through and through.
Vacation: you—yay, let’s make a list! me—oh, please let’s not!
The list goes on and on.
No wonder there have been tempests in the storm,
as you so graciously put it.
If I had to do it all over again, would I still marry you? you ask.
Oh, yes, I would.
I think you’re beautiful.
I think you’re smart.
I love to hear you laugh.
I love to read what you write.
I love to hear you sing.
I even enjoy it when you’re feisty—
albeit at a distance.
That list goes on and on, too.
I can honestly say my very best memories
are of days I spent with you.
As for those tempests,
oh, what a fool I was
for not listening to a different point of view.
I’m not saying you were always right,
but rare was the time when we were both wrong.
I should have listened more.
And how I admire the fact that, when you were right,
you never once said, “I told you so.”
Yes, yes, yes, I would marry you all over again.
We created children who find calculus easy and boring,
compose music with lyrics and record them,
paint, write, make movies, program computers,
and make us laugh with their wit.
No, I wouldn’t want to miss that.
Thirty-six years may seem like a long time,
but I’m looking forward to thirty-six more.
© by Jose E. Ferrer.
Used with the author’s permission.