Brush My Hair

Brush My Hair I was thinking, sitting here in this chair... that you are the best man, I have ever met. You are not like any other. We married, we had children... You worked and I kept the house. We agreed together, this was the way everything would go. Yet there was so much we did not know. Slowly our babies grew into adults. Then they grew away, and became their own families, together, and separate from ours. The nest grew quiet. The chicks no longer squawked. Instead, they called, for money now and then. You stopped working, at least away from home. Instead you filled your days with gardens, taking out the trash, and listening to all the words I had saved to say, for so many years, when you were gone. Catching up... with life together, was a new song, a new dance, a new romance. Sweetly you kissed me in the hall, like when we were young. You told me, whispered... you loved me more now than ever before. Days, and weeks, months and years... all a gift from Him. Then... You sat beside me on our bed, the very day that I would dread. You touched my hair with a brush, and softly loved me, (one last time...) before the hush. Written for a sweet friend.