Winfrey Point


Takes out the garbage three nights in a row
And doesn’t boast about it.

(Well. Maybe a little.)

Sits quietly in the passenger seat
And does not complain when the car veers onto the shoulder
Really, again?

Does not let you leave the house
With a stain on your shirt or broccoli teeth or rogue chin hairs.

Lets you pick the movie
Even though the last one you drug her to? Torture.

Always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres
Except for that time, and that time –
And that one time,
When you were unlovable?

No, even then.

Blessed words and ways,
People and things, clocks and calendars and the best damn dog you ever had –
These things are finite.
Voices are stilled. Hearts cease.
Even memories fade.
And Love –

No. Even then.

Love. Even then.

I wrote this poem and performed it for friends’ wedding in the summer of 2014.  I can’t dedicate it to them publicly because they are a same-sex couple for whom being “out” is not an option.

The wedding was held at Winfrey Point, the same venue where Mark and I were married in 1992. Another beautiful evening on White Rock Lake.

About Vicki Caroline Cheatwood

Writerly. Rebooting. Evolving. Searching for great chicken salad.
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