September 20: "Carry," Great Poet Friend, Poetry and Life

We all carry things, every day of our lives, from the moment we open our eyes in the morning until we close them again at night.  Sometimes the weight of those things are very light, and other times that weight is almost crushing.

I've dealt with a lot of struggles in the last quarter century.  (Wow, typing that just now made me feel really old!)  Mental illness.  Separation.  Deaths.  On the flip side, I've also had incredible gifts of joy.  Parenting.  Poeting.  Husbanding.  Friending.  Working.  My story is not unique in any way.  Anyone who has lived as long as I have will carry battle scars and bruises, great light and laughter, simultaneously.

Billy Collins carries on . . . 

Carry

by: Billy Collins

I want to carry you
and for you to carry me
the way voices are said to carry over water.

Just this morning on the shore,
I could hear two people talking quietly
in a rowboat on the far side of the lake.

They were talking about fishing,
then one changed the subject,
and, I swear, they began talking about you.

This morning, I met with one of my great poet friends.  She's been in my life longer than I've been married, through some of my darkest and brightest times.  Whenever we get together, we laugh.  A lot.  She has dealt with quite a bit in her life, as have I, and we have similar coping mechanisms:  poetry and a sense of humor.  Sure, we both carry suitcases crammed with hurts and pains and insecurities, but we also open up those suitcases, put on the ridiculous outfits inside (even if they're too small for us now), and allow ourselves to giggle, chortle, guffaw until we're breathless.

Today, she and I talked poetry and life and kids and grandkids and hopes.  I know this sounds like a therapy session.  In a way, it was.  I always feel lighter after spending time with her, and I hope she feels the same.  Friendships can be one-sided, and I try to avoid being THAT friend who takes and takes without giving back.

When I got home tonight, I told my wife, "Your Jewish mother says hello!"  And my wife knew exactly whom I was talking about.  A person who loves and cares for us both.

So, Saint Marty is carrying his friend with him tonight, and she will probably be mortified by this blog post.