--IT MAY NOT MATTER TO YOU, BUT IT MATTERS TO ME

                                           One Page Love Story

You told me I could choose the ending, so I held the stars for you, breathless and buoyant, stung by their glittering beauty.  I painted the clouds mauve and new blue, trimmed the sky with tinsel, and listened as the starlings sweetly sang your name.

You told me I could choose the ending, so I baked a soufflé, (yes, me! a baker) your favorite kind, something you’d never tasted, but knew you’d like.  I doused chocolate specks and shredded cinnamon over the swollen cakey part, said, “That looks like you down there, on occasion,” and wrote with powdered sugar on the saucer I Love You

You told me I could choose the ending, but I deferred, and, of course, you were obstinate, so nothing ended that night, nothing changed.

You told me I could change the ending, so I bought us Mauritius, the tawny sand beaches, the celadon water, coconuts and palm leaves and hammock swaying idly.  I ordered your favorite drink, made it a double, and winked at the waiter, saying, “One more every hour, if you please.”

You told me again that I could choose the ending, so I reached across the mattress, fluffed your pillow and watched morning turn to noon, noon to night.  I pictured you walking round the bed, not in shadows, but real, you lying down, only to turn and touch my face.  Before kissing you, I imagined there never was any funeral, that I never had to choose, that we were still breathing and just getting started.