For five infinite minutes
I felt true happiness-
The poet inside me
Wants to put it in words,
To distill this one, pure feeling
Into the poetry it is.

My son, a man of 21 years,
Just left the table
Where we drank coffee,
Waiting for his flight
To China
To fulfill his dream
To speak Mandarin 
Flawlessly.

We rose at the gate-call,
A tight hug "Good-bye".
Then he and his first love
Left hand-in-hand
For their private "Good-bye" 
At the gate.

What happened then
Transcends the telling
But for a poem:
Sitting at the table,
I watched him walk 
With feeling
Into his dream unknown,
Past life-moments 
Colliding 
With this one moment
Of sweet farewell,
True happiness 
Among the chatter and the clatter
Of the airport coffee shop.

It all began 
When we began 
To talk to each other:
I was a little girl then,
Talking to a moon-beam
Behind the stars,
Waiting
And wishing 
For your time
To come.

And then 
You were inside me,
A young woman
Pregnant
With immutable love:
I drew messages
On me over you 
About the joy
Of the days 
To come.

When you were born
Every star in the sky
Came out to see:
We checked 
Your fingers and toes,
Perfect 10's.

Your Daddy lifted you
To the sky
In his strong hand,
His arm outstretched
In rapture:
You laughed your laugh-
Beautiful already
On the second day.

And then the sadness
Moved in,
Like a thunder-cloud
From nowhere.
The beaming smile 
In the class picture
Changed to 
A quizzical look,
Wondering 
From where 
The pain came,
The school-friends gone.
And my sleepless dreams
Of a laugh-less man-child
Numb,
Alone,
Lost forever on the family couch,
Watching cartoons.

In that one moment-
Watching you now,
A man of strength,
Walk to the gate
To China,
Your love beside you,
She wishing your return
Even before you've left-
The bitter and the sweet 
Collide,
And happiness is mine 
Among the cluttered coffee-cups,
Five minutes of revelry
Before the waitress interrupts,
Asking for the check.  

***********

Some people come,
My husband, my love, 
To Tuscany
To find true happiness:
They seek the sun,
The red-tile roofs 
Against the powder blue hills,
Chianti, tomato bread,
And heat-laden, mid-day naps.
For me, happiness here
Comes when you play the banjo
Among the olive trees,
For then, our history together
Of  the bitter and the sweet
Collide in the perfect moment,
And we are one,
At home
Among the coffee-cups                            
In the foreign vineyards.

August 26, 2002