My parents were seriously ill-matched.
Neither ready to live grown up lives, but rushing to marry because that’s what was expected.
In their wedding pic, I swear my mom is bending a bit so she won’t tower over my father. I wonder how much she cared about. I was reading in Louise Bogan’s bio about how her mother shot up four inches past her father after they got married, and how her mother never forgave him for that.
In elementary school, a friend’s family invited me to be in her first communion ceremony and it looks like my mom thought it was a good idea. Crazy though because I don’t think my friend was old enough to marry God. Is anyone, really?
But look at my super-cute dress.
Sorrow is my own yard
where the new grass
flames as it has flamed
often before but not
with the cold fire
that closes round me this year.
I lived with my husband.
The plumtree is white today
with masses of flowers.
–– excerpted from “The Widow’s Lament in Springtime” by William Carlos Williams