By the time we reached the lake, it was gone. Just as we'd expected. Brilliant sunsets don't last for long. Instead, we were left in it's hazy afterglow, the black horizon and sky with the palest pink dash. It's hard to believe that such a beautiful evening existed without Celie in the world. It seems impossible now. But I guess that's proof on how relationships mark the way we measure time. Certainly for us, life will never be the same.
It reminds me of the poem Before I Had You by Fernando Pessoa that Steve read at our wedding:Before I had you
I loved Nature as a calm monk loves Christ.
Now I love Nature
As a calm monk loves the Virgin Mary,
Religiously (in my manner), like before,
But in a more heartfelt and intimate way.
I see the rivers better when I walk with you
Through the fields to the rivers’ banks.
When I sit next to you and watch the clouds
I see them much more clearly.
You haven’t taken Nature from me,
You’ve changed Nature.
You’ve brought Nature closer.
Because you exist I see it better, though the same as before.
Because you love me I love it in the same way, but more.
Because you chose me to have you and love you
My eyes gaze at it more than at anything.
But what most people don't know is that Steve left off the poem's official last line, a simple statement that adds an interesting twist:
I don’t regret what I was before, for I am still what I was.
I love this last line. To me, it talks about gratitude for the life that prepares us to love and respect for the fact that love, while it might alter time, doesn't necessarily change everything. We remain who we are, only better because we are loved.
I'm surprised I don't feel more different after having Celie, but I can't really say that I do. I still feel like me, just 'me-with-a-kid.' And this is reassuring. Because we've always loved clouds, they're just all the more wonderful now.
