Victoria and Victor

Every day
for some forty odd years
in the wee dark hours
he slipped a note
under the perpetual calendar
on the gray formica kitchen table
for her to find
after she awakened
to let her know
that not a morning passed
when he didn’t greet the day ahead
or remember the night behind
without gratitude for
her love
 
One day
some twenty odd years
after he died
when she lost her sight
was forced to leave her home, their home
the only thing she wanted
was to hear me read aloud
the note he left her the day he retired;
for her to hear again
and for me to hear once
the words that meant so much
 
I had one chance to search,
and search I did
but I could not find that note
 
©2018 CAS
 
~~~ 

Every picture tells a story and this one is true, down to the last word.  Note in the photo how their heads are tilted at exactly the same angle.  Victoria and Victor, my paternal grandparents, shared a life-long love like no other.  I  think of them first thing every morning when I reach the kitchen and turn their calendar to a new day.



Thanks Chantler63 and scribbler for hosting mono Monday and poetry challenges.



And a good Monday evening, good Tuesday morning to all you blippers!