53 Years Before the Court
                      [for m’honey’n’me]
 
The best of marriages is. . .how shall I put it?
But first, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
witnesses will attest to 53 years of I love you
daily, and more.  Of kisses, of hugs, of assuring
the union is not in question.  That chemistry
will fan the flame, but  love is not going to burn.  
Will hold.   Will give.   Will see.   Will hear.
Will not: cut deep with words that won’t go
back.  Will not:   hit,  slap, twist,  knock down,
hurl things toward.  Will work to understand.  
Will not: stray, betray, or backbite, but honor  
for richer, for poorer, in sickness, in health.  
Ladies and gentlemen, the prosecution
is going to tell you the marriage is not perfect.
That the man and woman who stand before us
are quite different.  That they have interests
they don’t share.  Neuroses, habits, pasts.  
You will be told they have had a great deal
of luck.  That patience is not always in evidence.  
That there have been fantasies about splitting
when things got tough.  School hassles, job woes,
and the joys and perils of raising a family
and a myriad of other stresses and strains
have threatened to pull the rug. A bad childhood
has taken its toll.  Kith and kin died or ran
into trouble.  A rich man’s economy sapped
finances started out a joke, the accused parties
never having been great at that kind of thing.  
But hear this: here are people who believe
in each other even more.  Promises made,
young and green though they were.  Please,
find them not guilty of taking for granted.
Innocent of staying together for convention’s
sake.  Note how they look into each other’s eyes.
Why, they look downright giddy. .
Let them think the honeymoon is still on!
 
©) Phyllis Jean Green, January 28, 2007

{Ray and I married January 28, 1954.  We both had a semester to go at U/AR and had known each other a little over three months.  We had to borro to pay for our rings. Made no sense at all.  Just got carried away.  Thank the lord for student housing.  Incidentally, we met backstage at U/AR Theater.  The play?  Romeo and Juliet!   Ray was Friar Lawrence, I a lowly prop girl.  Ray was drafted into the army the following summer.  Our daughter Debi was born in Heidelberg, Germany, January 18, 1956,  our son Tracy in El Dorado, Arkansas, June 26, 1957.  Ray and I both went back to school eventually.  He first, then me.  Road was often bumpy.  Love and laughter. . .and stubborness. . .have gotten us through thus far.  Thanks for helping us celebrate our anniversary. 's been wunnerful :) :) }