Shuly Cawood, Writer

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Farmhouse by the Highway

When I got married (the first time), I remember teaching myself to notice the things I loved about my husband and to focus on those over the things that gave me pause or had the capacity to annoy me. The truth is there was very little if anything that annoyed me about him—I don’t know now whether that was just because of him or because of the lens through which I chose to view him. We had many happy moments, I think, back in those early days before our marriage fell apart. After we split up, because of my own hurt place, I shoved away every single happy memory that surfaced because remembering good times and good things about him only made everything hurt more. I only wanted to remember the “bad” stuff—that was my way of propelling myself toward healing.

Later, after many years, I was ready to remember the good things again, but I had done such a good job of shoving it all away that I couldn’t remember any details of the happiness, only that it existed.

Now that I am married again, I still choose to view my husband through a lens of love, but I think I also view him realistically, just as I think he views me (though, let’s face it, I’m pretty perfect!). But it takes work to also understand that most personality traits have a positive and negative side, and each person is immensely complex.

This next poem is, for me, about what we choose to remember, and about how we view each other and the world around us. This prose poem is also a story, which I love.

This piece was reprinted here with permission of the poet. It was originally published in The Sun (November 2022). You can learn more about Matt Barrett and his writing here.

Thank you so much, Matt, for allowing me to share this wistful and moving poem.

It’s National Poetry Month, y’all. Every week on my blog during the month of April, I share poems I love from contemporary writers. I hope to pique your interest in poetry, if it needs to be piqued, and to show you that a really great poem can be accessible to all. 

“See” you soon with another fabulous poem—our last for the month!

Photo credit: Annie Spratt from Unsplash.com