How can I be turning 40 and you never did?
Silver is quickly becoming
one of my favorite colors, as it streaks
like tiny rivers and lightning bolts
through my best friends’ hair.
I love the way lines on faces create maps
of the laughs and stories we’ve lived,
our sorrows traceable with a finger,
wrinkles are trophies of wisdom and wit.
There is general acceptance and denial of age -
questions surround what it means
to arrive at life’s middle, especially
as people we love leave us,
and we sometimes love enough to let them,
and grieve them.
I think of this as autumn is quickly coming,
look for sunflowers as they’re my favorite bloom,
they’re like final bursts
of summer and sunlight
following monsoon rains and purple rainbows,
joining the loud and quiet change of things.
This September I see sunflowers differently,
in the late afternoon,
in the same way I think of you.
You were a burst of summer and sunlight,
too young to have rivers and lightning bolts streak through your hair.
I opened your obits recently, black and white
newspaper type of your families’ dreams,
Closed my screen, took a breath, wondered, and said,
how am I turning 40 and you never did?
I pondered this all summer,
saved a screenshot of you in my phone -
Thought about Wyoming, speed boats, New Year’s Eve, and
how short lives still leave
lifetimes of memories
and unanswered questions.
You gave dandelions and kites new meaning,
I wish you could see both fly.
You left without saying goodbye.
I remember that you kept the lights on
until they went out in a second.
Your laugh echoed through canyons and thunderstorms,
and you picked up heart rocks and didn’t ask
to leave your best friend behind
who drew your name in the sand at sunset.
We weren’t as old
as we thought we were,
when we were young, and dumb,
and believed aging was the end of everything.
Aging is for new beginnings,
the mysteries of which blend
with the beauty of cotton candy sunrises
and tragedy of loneliness, accidents,
and heartbreak.
I better curb now what worries me about growing older,
Let Mary Oliver remind me
to let my body love what it loves.
No matter if it looks like a mid-life crisis,
I seek places and people who inspire me to be
mid-life curious,
as those who’ve known loss can.
We buy tickets to shows you would have loved,
paddle through rivers and spend time with your wife.
We travel the world in your absence,
pop bottles of champagne, walk forever,
and never tire of adventures
that make us tired.
Silver is quickly becoming
one of my favorite colors, as it streaks
through the night sky as shooting stars,
graces Christmas trees and my old puppy’s face.
It shimmers as the ocean and birthday balloons
and will hopefully shine all over me.
I wish we could go back in time -
I wish silver graced you, too.