4 Years Ago Today...

For Robert, My Love, On Our Fourth Anniversary

4 Years Later--
more than 7 if you count dating--
still it's hard for me to pinpoint
what my love for you is.

I used to think love was that gut-tickle,
light-headed, giddy feeling--
the one I had the first time you held my hand
(Elder Eyring's talk, Saturday Afternoon, April 2002 Conference)
or the first time I read you loved me
(May 15, 2002-- my Mom's birthday).

Then love turned into a consciousness
and an ache.
I longed for your kiss, your hug,
even just your voice or e-mails.
In London, you were with me, in
my thoughts, in my hands.
I was bruised inside waiting for
(usually on Tuesdays)
or rereading your letters for the
20th time-- listening to
that piano song from Nicholas Nicholby,
sometimes crying softly, holding your picture.

During our engagement and early marriage,
love was a rickety old rollercoaster
and a torrent sea.
My coldest day was when I gave you my ring.
You gave it back in the morning.

Love then was an addiction;
more than just in me--a dangerous need,
driven by passions and rage.
We survived,
steadied only by the quiet,
often forgotten surety that
I was yours, completely.

Now our love is Four--
words and people
(February 9 our great start in parenthood; February 16 our new addition).
A little of all it's been--the feeling, the consciousness, the addiction--
but mostly
love is you.
Simply--
love is who I am, how my heart beats,
the steadiness of breathing.
Love is kissing you goodnight
("I love you; goodnight.")
Love is you holding my hair and cleaning up
after many of the 45 Peter pregnancy throw-ups.
Love is seeing you in our sons' features day in and out--
knowing they are lucky to be so handsome.
Love is a peace in my life;
calling you and knowing you'll be there;
the realization that without you,
I am hollow, in-
complete, disjointed.
Love is us. Forever.

--Jocelyn S. Gibbons