The Anniversary

Still Life by George Flegel c. 1625-30

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Today is our anniversary.

Nothing has been planned.

It was never really our way -

the flowers,

the gestures,

the dates circled on a calendar.

I learned not to expect them.

I think about cooking his favourite steak.

I know he wouldn’t eat it,

but the thought crosses my mind anyway.

In the beginning I didn’t have to remind him about cards,

or dinner plans,

or what anniversaries meant.

We didn't care.

Later I did.

Later still,

I stopped.

I used to wonder what that said about us, how we handled this one day of the year.

About me.

Now I think only of how we showed our love in other ways.

Forged in the fire.

I would give anything to watch him hurriedly inhale just one more steak.

We could do all of these things,

if only he wasn't dead.

Perhaps I will cook the steaks after all.

Even if they end up going to the dogs.