My first marriage proposal was a bit different than the usual. I threw it out there in a car ride and suddenly we were engaged.
propelled by fear of the future,
we stood at the juncture of two roads:
one misty, uncertain, walking alone,
the other paved and well-worn,
travelled by so many before,
when the world felt vast
and the expected route felt safer.
Looking back,
we stepped forward not with excitement,
but with a shrug: why not?
That should have been a warning:
two people on the threshold of life
forging an alliance out of quiet fear
rather than the fires of passion.
Even now,
the moment seems outlandish.
Was there love?
There was -
the kind like one has for their favorite pajamas,
comfortable, familiar,
worn thin from the years,
seams pulling apart,
a hole or two never mended,
still worn because they’d been ours
since high school,
too familiar to imagine replacing.
Yet, the day did arrive
when they no longer provided us
the warmth needed for the years ahead,
fabric frayed beyond mending.
Still, I would choose that road again,
for the lives that grew with us,
the hands we held along the way,
three children, each one
a thread of us -
the whole cloth, frayed parts and all.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Written on 2026-09-26 at 19:15
Tags Family Relationships Love
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The Coin Toss
A suggestion tossed into the universe,propelled by fear of the future,
we stood at the juncture of two roads:
one misty, uncertain, walking alone,
the other paved and well-worn,
travelled by so many before,
when the world felt vast
and the expected route felt safer.
Looking back,
we stepped forward not with excitement,
but with a shrug: why not?
That should have been a warning:
two people on the threshold of life
forging an alliance out of quiet fear
rather than the fires of passion.
Even now,
the moment seems outlandish.
Was there love?
There was -
the kind like one has for their favorite pajamas,
comfortable, familiar,
worn thin from the years,
seams pulling apart,
a hole or two never mended,
still worn because they’d been ours
since high school,
too familiar to imagine replacing.
Yet, the day did arrive
when they no longer provided us
the warmth needed for the years ahead,
fabric frayed beyond mending.
Still, I would choose that road again,
for the lives that grew with us,
the hands we held along the way,
three children, each one
a thread of us -
the whole cloth, frayed parts and all.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Written on 2026-09-26 at 19:15
Tags Family Relationships Love
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