what i would do again

If I had it all to do over again—

the last twenty six years

eleven months,

one week

and four days

since I first saw your face—

I would repeat every moment,

except for those I hurt you.

I would not speak the words

“I love you” with my mouth

without adding two more

loving acts to my hands.

We met at just the right time:

if we had met earlier

I would not have been ready

to be loved patiently

as you have loved me.

I cannot count the things

I would do all over again

since we first met

but let me try:

Let me cheer you on again

in your study to become

what you already are—

a true spiritual companion.

Let us grout the shower walls again

in our own style—

me with persnickety application

and you with your smearing gusto.

You can roll your eyes again

at my attempts to be funny;

I’ll try all over again to make you laugh,

develop new shtick.

Let’s dance again in the kitchen,

chat on the porch,

fold laundry,

bail water,

plant flowers,

weed gardens,

mop floors,

house hunt,

budget and shop

froth milk and drink coffee.

I’ll fry eggs and do the dishes;

let’s road-trip to Chicago again

on one tank of gas.

I would take you on that picnic

when the day is

colder than planned.

We would remain in the park,

defying the wind,

determined to prove our friendship

is stronger than the weather.

When I don’t know how to uncork the bottle,

I’ll just break its neck.

Let’s have another wasteful celebration.

These things I would do all over again.

I only have one request of you,

just one thing I want you to do once more:

startle me again

with fresh freedom,

an understanding of God

whose grace,

rightly grasped,

makes one tremble,

devoid of fear,

shaken by hope’s tremors.

what i would do again

by troy cady

for Heather on our 24^th anniversary

August 17, 2015