ANNIVERSARY (A DIALOGUE)

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-You're smiling again, Papa.

-Am I?

-Yes.

-I often smile when I look at you, don't I, boy?

-You do, Papa. But more this morning. More than usual, I mean. Why?

-Well, maybe because it's your Mummy's and my anniversary today. We married each other three years ago. And that makes me very happy. 

-What does it mean?

-What does what mean, boy?

-Anniversary.

-Oh. Well, it's a word people use--a word we use--to mark time. To provide a sense of things. A side of a scale to measure against the heft of infinity.

-The heft of infinity?

-Yeah, well. Sorry, boy. Those aren't the right words. They're too big.

-So what do you mean, Papa?

-Well. I guess I mean that we mark and remember moments in time, and if they're important--if they're significant to us in some way--we celebrate them. We celebrate that moment, that day.

-And your day is important, Papa?

-No. Not exactly. Not in and of itself, it's not. But what it represents is. It's very important, what it represents.

-What it is is different than what it represents?

-Well, yeah. Yes. Yes it is, boy. And I know that's confusing. But it is. Different, I mean.

-Different how, Papa?

-Well, as one day in the midst of many, many other days, it's unremarkable, really. That doesn't mean every day isn't special. Unique. But we don't remark upon every day because, in some ways, each day is very much like the day just before and the day that's coming just after. So what any particular day represents is what makes it remarkable, is what makes it stand apart from all the other days when the sun decides to come up again.

-So what does it represent, then, Papa? This day.

-Whoa. You're tough on the old man this morning, boy.

-I'm sorry, Papa. We don't have to talk any more if you don't want to.

-No. That's not what I meant, boy. It's just. . . . This is tough. Explaining it. . . . What it represents. What it means instead of what it is. Let's see. . . . It represents a choice we made, I guess. Your mummy and me. 

-A choice? 

-Yeah. Yes. A choice. Of each other. A choice to stumble forward. Blindly perhaps, but together.

-Why?

-Why what, boy?

-Why did you choose that?

-Well. I don't know, exactly. I hadn't ever expected to want to choose that. Which is, I guess, exactly why I was so excited. To choose it, I mean. With her. It helped us avoid feeling lost. Untethered. Without an anchor. And as a way to celebrate that choice, we name this day anniversary. . . . 

-So you and Mummy chose each other?

-We did, boy.

-And doing so was good? Helped you not feel lost?

-That's right, boy. That's exactly right. And it was good, that choice. One that helps us not feel lost. . . . What's the matter, boy? What's bothering you?

-In the night, when it's dark and I'm no longer sleeping?

-Yeah?

-I feel lost. You aren't there. Mummy isn't there. It's dark and I can't see and there's only the emptiness, the nothing of the room.

-I know. I know, boy. 

-Is that the feeling you mean?

-It is. Or something very much like it.

-And you got rid of it when you and Mummy chose each other?

-We did. Much of the time, at least. . . . 

-And you celebrate anniversary to remember that choice?

-Yes. To remember. To feel that choice again. 

-What's it feel like, Papa, that choice?

-Hmm. Well, let's see. In your room, at night, you know? When you're in the dark and you can't see and there's only that nothing filling up your room?

-Yeah?

-Well, at night, when I open your door and come in to get you. When I reach down to you. When I pull you toward me and hold you against my own body. How do you feel?

-When you open the door and the light comes in with you, I'm . . . better. Happy. I'm . . . safe--and I don't need to cry any more. Even before you pull me to your chest. Even before you come in. Even before the dark is chased away. When I hear the hallway creaking under you. Even then, I already feel better, because I know you're coming.

-Those many years ago, boy, I heard the hallway creaking under your Mummy. And the choice we made was to have the light break in upon us.

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-Happy anniversary, Papa.

-Thank you, boy.