(Written for and read to Rachel at our wedding on August 25, 2012.)
Our love is not a blazing yellow daffodil against a sea of grass,
boasting 6 perfectly formed, evenly aligned petals
more lustrous than the July sun at noon.
Nor is it a meticulously cut diamond,
three and a half carats of pure symmetry
laid to rest upon an endless golden band.
It is not even the cherished trophy
entrusted to the victor at the end of a bitter, harrowing fight.
Rather, our love is more reminiscent of a waterfall that shatters through a rotten rainy afternoon,
tumultuous most days, headstrong, irrepressible, even downright unruly at times.
As the water rages over the edge and interrupts the serene pool below,
like a conflict, an argument,
it threatens stability, consistency, perpetuity.
But every year when the icy tendrils of winter take root,
the raging river becomes a stream becomes a trickle,
and icicles, like nature’s stained glass, cast a brilliant mosaic of light on the rocks below.
In the midst of tranquility, our love, like nature’s frosty canvas, crystallized.
Then, as spring grips the land, as the ice melts to slush, miniscule flecks of green foliage peer out gingerly from the tree branches,
slowly, then eagerly, until a tapestry of color blankets the land,
and the frantic river roars over its cliff once more.
This turbulence, cyclical, endures even after the deepest freeze.
But betwixt commotion and calamity, we find ambition, beauty, life.
An impassioned salmon lunging upstream to meet his mate–or a starry-eyed lover fighting foes, moving mountains, braving caustic intolerance for her beloved.
A twittering blue bird harmonizing with the wind–or you and I, daring to steal a fervent kiss atop a midnight bridge in the summer.
And a tenacious ant dragging home a prodigious feast–or a whirlwind of dogs, bunnies, fish, hermit crabs—even chickens
who have stolen our hearts and molded us into family,
complete with chaos and disorder,
but never lacking loyalty, endurance, and copious tail wags and face licks.
They say a rainbow only supersedes a storm,
And love, for me, only blossoms in a surging, vigorous, and always magnificent waterfall, with you.