A pier

You and him,

Marriage wastes. I have seen the fumbling fall of my grandparents, the way that has been years since they have really spoken to each other, how their hands forget what it means to be held, though the wrinkles keep the memories of worn adoration. I have watched my parents tussle over divorce papers only to later burn them in a great, little fire to warm the whole again. I have seen the sad among the many, the universes of lovers that will never meet, the bastardized functionality of two, where there are taxes to pay and dogs to feed and the kids, too, don’t forget the kids, hunny. There has been the crusted honey. And there have been the bees and their stinging.

When the welts burst and the murderous temperament disintegrates with the coming pollen that too can cause a deadly allergy, I find myself alone. This, I believe, is why many get married. To find a partner despite the melting plasticity of relationships. To ensure that among the fleeting many, there will be a lone pier, that however battered and however forgotten, remains.

You and him, seeing you together reminds me that your fathers are the storm and your mothers are the sea. In your dancing desire for one another, waves are jealous of their tenuous lapping love of the land. The sky opens up for you two. The sun smiles after years of smiling just a little wider, just a little brighter for your eventual great walk together.

What I am trying to say is that though there is no good reason to get married, though life is largely awful, though there is still the fact that for each bird that sings there is one that is shot and for every dessert eaten there is one falling to the floor in screams, your love for each other gives me faith. Your love defies reason. Your love is reason.

I am a distant observer, a wayward seafolk who watches that pier you two have planted. I can tell you it glistens better than the stars. I see that it keeps the entire ocean in place. Fish make it their home, entire families use it to guide them in the deep, black waters. You two are a beacon. You two lead the way.

To what? To each other. To the soothing smell of the maritimes miles away. To the possibility of making this terrible, tiny place tremendous.

Because while it is true that marriage wastes, it is wonderful that you two have decided to make use of what can be remade, remoulded, and formed again. You two can change the limp term of marriage. You two can inspire. You two have already done this much for me.

Thank you for giving me a bit of the love you two wish and want and will for one another. It is a light light. It is a heavy infinity. It is exactly what is needed, what is possible, and what can be found only among the secrecy of you two – the great, moving more, the dreams realized, the eternal summer, and the hope hope hope.

Until the future becomes filled by the hugs you two give one another, congrats,
Kacper