Written September 29,  2013

Do you wanna be a poet and write?


Do you wanna be an actor up in lights?


Do you wanna be a soldier and fight for love?

Do you wanna travel the world?


Do you wanna be a diver for pearls?


Or climb a mountain and touch the clouds above?

Be anyone you want to be


Bring to life your fantasies


I want somethin' in return

I want you to burn


Burn for me, baby


Like a candle in my night


Oh, burn, burn for me, burn for me

Songwriters

Sean Michael Anderson

Orlando Jahlil Tucker

Robert Rihmeek Williams

Mari wakens and wonders why her alarm has not broken the stillness as yet.  Quickly she spins the clockface towards her and sighs in relief that she the gift of an hour’s sleep remains.  It doesn’t matter.  Mari can’t sleep anyway.  It is too momentous a day. She slips from the covers and creeps down two flights of stairs contemplating the time this happened five years before. 

Then it was because her mother at age 88 was leaving.  The memories fold about her like the warmth of the quilt she just left behind.  She is still lying in the twin bed positioned adjacent to her mother’s full size bed, sobbing into the pillow. 

            “It was never supposed to happen this way.  You were supposed to live here until heaven called you home.”

            “It’s still not too late,” says Mom, “We can still change our minds.” 

            But that is stating the impossible.  When a river has been released, it can be channeled down one pathway or another, but it cannot be pulled back and re-harnessed in the same place.

            Today it is not her Mom, but her daughter. Mari wants to climb into that full size bed beside her baby daughter, now age 25.  She wants to cradle her in her arms the way she did years ago, stroking her curls, synchronizing their breathing, and savoring each moment in the wee morning hours of solitude when no one was about to disturb the moment.  In infancy Mari rocked her in the red rocking chair, recognizing that this was the last of her babies, every sigh, every heartbeat, every coo was to be savored, to be imprinted on this mother’s heart.  It was Mari’s goal that the unspoken love overflowing in her heart would find expression in the physicality of a mother/daughter hug.  That hug would have to linger for four months until Chryssa would return again.  But when Mari reaches the bottom step, she finds the bedroom door closed.  The wondrous peace of the nighttime’s calm is palpable and she cannot conjure the nerve to disturb it.  She knows Chryssa is resting right inside that bedroom door, but to turn the handle would be to disturb the calm for which lullabies were created.  Why begin the separation steps of the day any earlier than needed.  Instead Mari hears the dryer humming, one last load that Chryssa has set in motion to be ready for the coming day.  Mari allows the dryer to be her vehicle of action.  She folds the few items, a routine repeated over and over in the many years of child-rearing, as a standard and reassuring act of motherly love.  Chryssa will have one less thing to do in the morning.  Mari smooths the shirts and shorts as if caressing Chryssa’s cheeks.  She lays the patted pile in a position where it will be easily visible in the morning.  She steps back into the hallway and blows a kiss through the bedroom door, tiptoes back up to the third floor and repositions herself next to her husband as if she had never left.

            At 2:30, the alarm chirps repeatedly.  This time it is not as easy to gather the ambition to rise from slumber.  Mari snoozes a few extra moments before bounding out of bed and leaping down the stairs to offer help.  Bill is already in the kitchen, dressed and brewing a cup of coffee.  He acknowledges Mari’s appearance, but she is already halfway down the second flight of stairs to Chryssa’s door.   She opens it to find a bright beam of the bathroom light flooding the space and Chryssa hefting a 50-pound suitcase onto the scale for the 3^rd time to verify that it will make weight.

            It has been a marvelous three days.  Chryssa arrived Thursday from California to spend the long weekend with her family before departing for Uganda.  On Friday, Mari had invited many of Chryssa’s high school friends and their parents to relive some of their precious Holliston memories.  It was a lovely gathering of about 25 friends, all of whom brought a gift of encouragement or some special words of wisdom to share before her departure.  It mimicked many similar events of years past, such as graduation nights, prom nights, senior class play nights, and softball team picnics.  The barbeque, salads and desserts created the aura of encouragement and fun that carved right through the palpable worries.  Every guest was so proud of the adventure Chryssa had elected to take on next.   

            The questions were the same from everyone.  Why was she off on this adventure?  Her husband remained behind in San Francisco, but Chryssa had committed to spending a full year in Uganda.  Was there a problem in the marriage?  Did they need some time away?  Was Chryssa running away from the fear of managing a demanding accounting job with a top firm?

            "You're raring to go!" said Mari.  In her mind she was wondering how she could share her fears of sending her daughter off alone to a third world country when she was a beautiful, but light weight 27 year old female.  The possibilities for danger seemed overwhelming.

            "Why not?" retorted Chryssa.  "I've been planning this for 3 months."

      

Wedding Day 1978

Wedding Day 1978

Mari's eyes fluttered open. Her first year of teaching school had just ended the week before.  Finally the day she had prepared for all the year through had arrived.  All was as it should be.  This was the day that would change her life. 

Mari stretched out in the full sized bed, surprised that her sister, Theresa, was already up and about.  In the three bedroom home, they still shared the same bed they had since Mari was a freshman in high school.  When Mari went off to college, it gave them each space to find their own way. Today it was especially helpful to have a younger sister who could help with all the unexpected details of the day.  It had been a while since a wedding had occurred in their family.  Nine years to be exact. All her older sisters had their own children to attend to on this day, but Mari liked that this gave her younger sister a special place of honor as the lone related bridesmaid for today.  Theresa was almost seven years younger, and anxious to be thought of as the oldest in the household for a change. 

Mari slipped out of bed and sauntered to the kitchen.  

"Here she is.  Are you ready for your big day!" asked Mom. 

"Sunny outside, but some clouds, too," someone mentioned.   It was hard to quickly catalog the group of people assembled at the kitchen table. 

"Eggs and bacon?"

"Not today.  Not much of an appetite on my wedding day?  I'm going to hit the shower.  Are Nadene and Barbara awake yet?  We have to be ready for our hairdressers appointments shortly. 

The morning sped by with little fanfare.  Mari went off to the hairdressers with two of the bridesmaids.  She had a manicure the night before, only the fourth on in her life other than prom nights through her schooling years.  Mom and Theresa stayed home to greet strivers, answer phone calls, guide any quizzical guests, and verify last arrangements with the florist and venue. By noontime Mari and her ensemble were ready and waiting for the photographer and flowers to arrive.   

There was an unscheduled interlude between activities when Mari selected a comfortable arm chair and stared out the window. It was easy to become reflective.  Had she made the right decision?  She knew Bill was a wonderful opportunity.  Their courting years had shown how they were both committed to helping others first.  How could one go wrong with a man like that.  Had her Mom made the right decision?  If she could go back in time, would her Mom retrace the same steps again? Her mother was the strongest influence in Mari's life.  Of course, reviewing her plan of action meant reviewing the example that had been set. Mari knew that her inexperience meant she should look to others wiser for guidance, but she also knew she had chosen wisely and had assembled a winning hand.  Now it was time to let fate play its turn.  How long and lovingly she had awaited this day. 

The sound of the doorbell tugged her back from her introspective silence.  She willed herself to stand as the photographer entered the living room.  Other persons would now direct the day and Mari would flow with the currents agreed to in the prior months of wedding planning. For the next hour smiles, staged still-life's, and sentimental hugs would become the family photos that would grace many homes in the years to come. 

From the living room bay window Mari could see the wedding vehicles arrive.  

"Where are those flowers?" her maid of honor and college roommate queried.  Everyone was in a bit of a panic as it was time to be on the way. 

"I don't know but I thought we would get excellent service. After all Bill worked at this florist through his high school years and he knows all the designers."

Just as Mari picked up the corded rotary house phone, the delivery van parked at the front door. There was a flurry of boxes, questions, answers and exchanges until graciously and surprisedly each had their own adornments. With her eyes beginning to well but consciously abating her feelings, Mari pinned on Dad's boutonnière while Theresa slipped on Mom's wrist corsage. Then all flooded into the assembled cars to head off on this magical journey. St. Catherine of Siena Catholic church was just 10 minutes away, but it held all the wishful moments of this young girl's heart, who had been taught that a soulmate and children were the keys to the floodbank of happiness for all the years to come.  

"You look beautiful," was a recurring comment as Mari's future in-laws greeted her at the church and whisked her into the bride's waiting room.  No longer did Mari's feel the pings of doubt once she arrived at the church.  This was going to be an easy wedding.  

Mari's family had already been through 3 weddings so they knew the lay of the land. The first two sibling weddings had been consecrated under challenging circumstances, but the most recent one had been a joyous and traditional celebration.  Mari had the good fortune to be the second such wedding, so her family already could anticipate the days schedule and embrace the fun to come. 

The pipe organ coaxed Mari down the aisle, but kissing Dad goodbye and sliding her arm into Bill's steady grip was automatic.  

"Do you take Bill to be your husband?"

"I now pronounce you man and wife."

The details were short, simple and deeply emotional.  

It didn't matter that the reception was a lovely success, attended by all that were invited.  What mattered was the promise made this day and the conviction that this new path was their life-long journey.