9 Months In

Is this what you had in mind?

Packing your things

Leaving your home

Goodbyes to friends

Flying across seas

Panic-stricken with great

trepidation

To live here with fantastical

determination.

For me?

Seeing you at arrivals

Chatting with my family

Sitting in our car

Remembering the seatbelt

at my urging.

Driving down our first roads

together.

Exclaiming at the trees,

the empty scenes

an hour and a half

and we were back.

To another home. my home

now complete

taking you down the stairs

tucking you in the sheets.

Talking about this and that

things not yet sinking in

a wedding to prepare for

to get dressed for

discombobulating commotion

swarms of guests

my family and family friends

inspecting you through their lens

reaching a verdict

“He’s lucky to have you.”

here comes the bhaarat

third world drums blaring 

from outside

the elite museum

bringing a procession in,

colorful and vibrant

led by a dutiful dancer

to a sun-drenched altar

presided over by the ancient wisdom of

Hebrews and Hindus

where you descended

to an oh so bittersweet melody

step by step, girded by your

last connections to life in India.

A tear painted the museum floor

and you stepped over it

as you marched to me

to ceremonially recognize

what we already knew to be true

while I zoned in and out

and felt a breeze

through my dhoti

vows were spoken

and I leaned in

for a momentous kiss

you hesitated to reciprocate

before our lips met

and we took 7 steps

hand in hand.

Next came learning each other all over

and touching each other all over

walks in the woods

treachery and forgiveness

anger and depression

alcoholic balm

insomnia

uncertain normalcy

dinner dates with my friends

who became your friends

road trips to Savannah and Asheville

River street fireworks and

Lithuanian hikes

Jazz clubs.

Oh and my flights of fancy in between

Listening to me wide-eyed

proselytizing

While you held everything steady.

And we settled down to another home

small and quaint

You did it all

decorating, assembling furniture

trying out the cookware

washing the dishes

scrubbing the bathroom

playing host for guests

torn between people who rely on you

your friends, your family, my family, me

losing your mind and

putting it back together

campaigning for justice

applying for jobs

tentatively, like a fish out of sea

flopping around this alien landscape

holding onto me.