the song of the star enchants my heart.
Yesterday was our anniversary. After a few rudimentary stops, somewhat aimless wandering and a steady stream of singing, we found ourselves near The Dunes. Months past its waters had sunk to the muddy earth, scattered with dead fish and dying clams. A few birds remained to scavenge the last veins of water but most had left the waste. For all we knew, we would make no new memories here. We later found the fight to save them was old and seemed lost.
Coming over the crest of the hill, I think we were both shocked at what we saw; the Dunes were renewed! The water was fresh and full and alive, the greenery was growing and the park was freshly painted and restored. A mother was pushing her small child in a swing, taking photographs. The ducks and geese were grooming, singing, bathing and diving in its waters. All was living and breathing!
We were overjoyed and went back to the market for bread. By the time we had returned it was dusk and the chill ocean breeze was stirring. We parked and he gathered the gift basket he'd prepared for our anniversary. I removed the Hanukia and turned my back to scrap off remnants of wax. He gathered the remainder of our things, and we walked along the western shore.
We found a knotty birch by the bank and sat among the roots; we'd forgotten the bread. He asked me if I'd like him to go back and no, no I said, you'll return and it will be dark. We tried to light the candles for the Hanukia but the ocean was sighing and deceptively strong. We could not keep the flame going without his hand sheltering it, and we laughed as it seemed magic to pull his hand this way and that, and to have the flame change so. We set that aside, and he gave me the basket.
I opened it and found a wine case he had designed. It was silver grey and faintest grove green on a screen of white. He drew a cut-out of the Tree of Life, and in his design combined the Gaelic and Hebrew traditions. Just beyond it's boughs was the archer pointing heavenward; at his feet was the bank of the Lake where there resided the Swan in the Lake, the Lady by the Lake; and they were at the foot of the Battle on the Hill: these were the stories and the poetry we spoke through in the Beginning, to express what we could not plainly, like lovers behind screens; because that is what we were. We did not know if we could ever be together.
Along it's topmost edge was scroll work in Gaelic and in Hebrew but I did not know what it said yet. But for that moment I remembered the imagery, and was so moved as to burst into crying.
I opened it and found a bottle of Champagne from France. To it's side was a ring pop. I laughed, and I said, "I will".
And he spoke to me in that tone I had not heard in so long; the thirst and longing I remembered again in his voice and he asked me, "Will you?"
By this time it was twilight and but for the faintest bit of light left and the reflections from the waters I could see little, but still he directed me to the bottom of the case, to a wooden box. He had etched with fire on it's top the Star of Eärendil. I could not open it; I seemed to lose all dexterity in my fingers. He unlocked the latch and revealed the ring.
The Gaelic and the Hebrew on the wine case read, "Will you marry me? I'm in love with you."
He said to me, "I hope that you like it...I don't know if you will, or if I can ever give you one that will please you, but I hope that you like it." He removed it and slipped it onto my finger.
I looked at him and what a darling fool! I held his face in my hands and covered him with kisses and said nothing but yes. I saw that the white gold band was engraved with leaves, which adorned its nine simple diamonds. It glittered in the pale cold and I was moved by all powers of conveyance.
So, upon the bank of the tributary we went to as children, to laugh play and feed the ducks and geese, long before we met...upon that bank, a year since our first date, he recollects our thwarted, desperate passion and weaves it into a single, quintessential moment...at the crest of the hill, I said yes.
He was doubtful about the time and the design and since September opportunities have slipped him by again and again but I hope he believes when I say this was the right time, this was the perfect time. This is not about the notch in, the crack through, the smudge upon the design. I say yes again and again.
He lifts his voice and sings, Baruch attah Adonai...and in my heart I feel, I 'lir en ê luitha 'uren, the Song of the Star Enchants my Heart.
Coming over the crest of the hill, I think we were both shocked at what we saw; the Dunes were renewed! The water was fresh and full and alive, the greenery was growing and the park was freshly painted and restored. A mother was pushing her small child in a swing, taking photographs. The ducks and geese were grooming, singing, bathing and diving in its waters. All was living and breathing!
We were overjoyed and went back to the market for bread. By the time we had returned it was dusk and the chill ocean breeze was stirring. We parked and he gathered the gift basket he'd prepared for our anniversary. I removed the Hanukia and turned my back to scrap off remnants of wax. He gathered the remainder of our things, and we walked along the western shore.
We found a knotty birch by the bank and sat among the roots; we'd forgotten the bread. He asked me if I'd like him to go back and no, no I said, you'll return and it will be dark. We tried to light the candles for the Hanukia but the ocean was sighing and deceptively strong. We could not keep the flame going without his hand sheltering it, and we laughed as it seemed magic to pull his hand this way and that, and to have the flame change so. We set that aside, and he gave me the basket.
I opened it and found a wine case he had designed. It was silver grey and faintest grove green on a screen of white. He drew a cut-out of the Tree of Life, and in his design combined the Gaelic and Hebrew traditions. Just beyond it's boughs was the archer pointing heavenward; at his feet was the bank of the Lake where there resided the Swan in the Lake, the Lady by the Lake; and they were at the foot of the Battle on the Hill: these were the stories and the poetry we spoke through in the Beginning, to express what we could not plainly, like lovers behind screens; because that is what we were. We did not know if we could ever be together.
Along it's topmost edge was scroll work in Gaelic and in Hebrew but I did not know what it said yet. But for that moment I remembered the imagery, and was so moved as to burst into crying.
I opened it and found a bottle of Champagne from France. To it's side was a ring pop. I laughed, and I said, "I will".
And he spoke to me in that tone I had not heard in so long; the thirst and longing I remembered again in his voice and he asked me, "Will you?"
By this time it was twilight and but for the faintest bit of light left and the reflections from the waters I could see little, but still he directed me to the bottom of the case, to a wooden box. He had etched with fire on it's top the Star of Eärendil. I could not open it; I seemed to lose all dexterity in my fingers. He unlocked the latch and revealed the ring.
The Gaelic and the Hebrew on the wine case read, "Will you marry me? I'm in love with you."
He said to me, "I hope that you like it...I don't know if you will, or if I can ever give you one that will please you, but I hope that you like it." He removed it and slipped it onto my finger.
I looked at him and what a darling fool! I held his face in my hands and covered him with kisses and said nothing but yes. I saw that the white gold band was engraved with leaves, which adorned its nine simple diamonds. It glittered in the pale cold and I was moved by all powers of conveyance.
So, upon the bank of the tributary we went to as children, to laugh play and feed the ducks and geese, long before we met...upon that bank, a year since our first date, he recollects our thwarted, desperate passion and weaves it into a single, quintessential moment...at the crest of the hill, I said yes.
He was doubtful about the time and the design and since September opportunities have slipped him by again and again but I hope he believes when I say this was the right time, this was the perfect time. This is not about the notch in, the crack through, the smudge upon the design. I say yes again and again.
He lifts his voice and sings, Baruch attah Adonai...and in my heart I feel, I 'lir en ê luitha 'uren, the Song of the Star Enchants my Heart.