Hearts and Flowers

When my husband, Dave, and I first met I lived in a duplex on “C” Street in Napa with my friend, Joan. The building was originally one house that had been converted into two apartments, an upstairs and a downstairs. Joan and I lived upstairs. Through our living-room window we had a good view of the street.

Joan had a great sense of humor and liked to tease Dave and me about our relationship. One afternoon she spotted Dave as he strolled up the street. Here comes your beau carrying a posy! Don’t worry. I don’t see any police cars following him.

Dave’s house was about a mile away from my apartment and he could easily walk over for a visit. Along the way he often stopped to pick me a flower from a neighborhood garden. This gesture always surprised me. I asked him once, Aren’t you afraid the homeowner will see you and get mad?

No, he said. Isn’t that why people grow flowers? So others will enjoy them? This answer was so simple and matter-of-fact that I couldn’t think of an argument against it, although he admitted once a woman spied him through an open window, but she didn’t object. Instead, they shared a smile and he was on his way.

I never asked him if he carried his own clippers!

From my C Street Window

I see his sure-footed stroll
swing of arms and legs in sync
A trim-bearded man
in a hurry
to see me

I hear his energetic step
on the porch stair
solid rap at my door
A man’s whistle
to fetch me

My heart skips, fingers tingle
as I twist open the door
to a good man’s
bright smile
for me

This poem is from my book, Light the Way.

photo by Josh McMillan