Before February gets by us, I want to share this poem about a moment in time filled with an enduring memory. As the snows falls and the wind blusters by, a woman with her warm comforts of tea and a charming music box from Germany fills her afternoon…
Each February I remember the fragile note, kept safe in the music box imported from Germany. Unfolding the faded and creased parchment, I read his words in soft murmurs while waiting for the old teapot to whistle. My aging hands are cold and less nimble; but my mind fights the weathering years. Scrawled in pale blue ink, he wrote: “My dearest valentine I beg you, live well and laugh often. Bouquets fade and dry, Godivas digest, ahh…but love…love… think of me and smile.” I gently refold each crease and put away the only thing he left me. Still, I ask myself each year since his passing, were they written out of guilt or obligation? Sipping Earl Grey tea on this bittersweet afternoon, it was easier to believe in love. What is a wintry day in February like for you? Can you identify with the woman in this verse? Your thoughts and comments are most welcome! Thank you for reading this posting of I Stop the Questioning.
