Countdown

Today is the last Thursday before we get married. On Tuesday we had the last dinner together before the big day. I'm not nervous. This is the most right-thing-to-do I feel I've ever been part of. I'm not nervous is not totally correct. Of course I'm nervous, but of little things; do I have to make a speech? Should I prepare? We are not having a conventional celebration. I suppose there's no harm in preparing. I'll keep a poem or some inspirational words in my pocket.

When Brenda and I went to see Patrick Boucher he read a poem by By Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way
than this: Where “I” does not exist, nor “You”, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

I love the words: "I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks..." They hold the "idea" of what our marriage is--The creation and the closing of a new circle around our two separate family and friendship circles, enclosing within it the potential, the hidden flowers of closeness and belonging.