The light shifts. Always shifting.
And in its changing, I find you,
Over and over, a constant,
Yet ever-unfolding landscape.
Not just the woman of 47 yesterday,
but every intricate layer beneath.
I see the younger woman who first captivated me,
A flicker of unburdened joy,
A certain fearless curiosity in her eyes that still sparks,
Sometimes, when she thinks no one is looking.
And a bit older woman who built,
Stone by careful stone,
This quiet sanctuary we inhabit, not just walls,
But a shared understanding deeper than any foundation.
The one who wrestled with shadows and emerged,
Not unscathed, perhaps,
But richer, more incandescent.
There are moments,
Brief catches of breath, when I glimpse the quiet woman,
The one who sees beyond the obvious,
Who navigates currents I sometimes miss.
And the fiercely tender protector,
Her heart a vast, warm ocean for those she loves.
We've walked through seasons.
The sharp clarity of winter,
The hesitant bloom of spring,
The long, generous stretch of summer,
And the reflective hues of autumn.
Each one leaving its mark,
A subtle deepening of the lines around her eyes,
A new grace in her movements.
These aren't just years passing;
They are layers accumulating,
Like the rings within an ancient tree,
Each one telling a story,
Adding to the profound, quiet strength I lean into.
So today, as the sun begins its arc,
Or perhaps as dusk gathers its soft cloak,
I honor the women inside you.
The visible,
The unseen,
The woman I know so intimately,
And the beautiful mysteries I am still privileged to uncover.
You are not just time lived,
But a profound, ongoing revelation
Of spaces that can form a human.
