There is a moment I remember, her nose in the honeysuckle bush down the alley and the world falling away in a rush. Over the years when I'd get frustrated with one thing or another, I'd remember that--our short walk to the doughnut shop in Summer 2011, or maybe remember some other such blessing and be born again. It was in that first year of marriage I realized she didn't make magic; she was magic. Not me, I didn't think. I kept after myself about being close with my son and her. She was always better at the loving and it never did get harder for her the way it did me. But when I'd finally get around to talking out loud about something like that, some burden, she could help me come around, and then I would sometimes go out to the patio or garage, off to be alone a minute, and let my eyes burn with how grateful I was she's there. Life had the magic of goodness with her.
