Toes

by Jenn Parks (art by Melody Courley)

Nine years that summer, my best friend and me
Meandered the wheat fields adventurously.
He always in blue jeans and I, a sundress,
Never in shoes, despite parental requests.
He laughed as I chatted with cows while they stood
And he pretended to battle like he was Robin Hood.
Day after day, our ventures would close
On the dock at sunset, water licking our toes.

Seventeen that school year, my boyfriend and me
Made prom plans beneath a hickory tree.
I picked a gown, then his tux and a tie,
And he nodded politely at my dad’s evil eye.
The night almost over, not a dance had we done
When the band leader announced, “Ok guys, last one.”
I said, “You’ll do fine,” as I pulled him in close
And for three and a half minutes he tripped on my toes.

Twenty-four years young, my fiancé and me
Made big plans while he was down on his knee.
We fought with a passion, but loved just the same
And I fancied to finish this life with his name.
So we stood one fine day and promised the world
And the angels blew trumpets as our future unfurled.
That night we made a pile of wedding dress and hose
And between cotton sheets brushed warmly our toes.

Thirty-one and nine months, my husband and me
Timed the contractions—nervous parents-to-be.
Years of hope and frustration and wishes on stars,
Then she entered the world, a small girl only ours.
I cried when she cried, and he cried even more,
Then they whisked her away to assess Apgar score.
They returned her to us; in her presence we rose,
A new love yet unknown as we kissed baby toes.

Forty-five, getting tired, her daddy and me,
Of the day to day same-ness and melancholy.
We worked and parented, made dinner and cleaned,
We kept us and her busy, while our marriage unsteamed.
But we gave all we had, and we worked as a crew,
When her friends were no good and she endlessly grew.
Tough times when our teenager refused to disclose;
We were drained, but a team, and we stayed on our toes.

Fifty-seven and retired, my teammate and me,
Finally done working for the man; we were free!
We cleaned out the attic, planted flowers outside,
Polished the crystal then gawked a moment with pride.
Soon the hundred things we never had time to do
Were done, so we opted for a change in the view.
We loaded the RV and packed all our clothes,
Then we spent quite some time with the sand in our toes.

Sixty-five years together, my best friend and me
Held tightly once more at a quarter to three.
His hand in my hand, as the minutes passed on,
Then time stole him away, his last breath had drawn.
I picked the best stone, placed flowers with care,
But I felt so unbalanced as if walking on air,
Til I sat on his grave and his feeling arose
When I felt the green grass delighting my toes.