Dear Strangers

If you noticed me taking your photo as you walked away hand-in-hand, you probably thought I was creepy. Hopefully, you simply assumed I was photographing Leavenworth’s holiday decorations and weren’t concerned by the click and whir of my little camera, whose name is Lizzie by the way. Either way, I want you to know. that I love the moment I captured in the glow of the Christmas lights, the two of you swinging hands like a much younger couple, comfortable in your togetherness, quietly enjoying the beauty of the season. You remind me of the husband and wife I saw leaving the Davenport Hotel in downtown Spokane some years ago, who paused on the empty sidewalk to twirl in each other’s embrace, never noticing the silent observer across the street who would later write them into a poem.

.

an older couple in leather jackets leave
the restaurant to
dance a few turns on the sidewalk
beneath the streetlamps, the
stars, the towering night

.

Perhaps you actually are that husband and wife, and our paths have crossed again. Perhaps someday, a few years from now, I will be standing on a street corner in Sandpoint or Colville or Ellensburg, and I will see you dance once more, the only witness to your ongoing love story.



From the Archives:

a series of posts originally written during
the first nine years of my life with chronic pain
August 2006 – May 2015

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