To C

Memorial Day used to be something I looked forward to, as most folks do. It meant the beginning of my favorite season, three days away from work, every so often a road trip or other adventure.

Unfortunately, it's now the anniversary of the apex (or nadir, depending on one's point of view) of my relationship with Mr. Ex, the point at which the things he did to me landed me in the hospital for several days.

This is one anniversary I do my best not to observe, but my body still feels it acutely and for the week or so beforehand I have terrible nightmares, insomnia, and an all-pervading sense of dread and unease.

But this post isn't about that, it's about C, the fellow who seems to have an effortless, perhaps even unconscious, way of scattering the dark clouds. He doesn't even have to say or do anything. His presence is enough.

I don't think I'm a bad writer, but I've never been any good at poetry. So here instead I'm quoting Heinrich Heine. Schumann set these lines to music and in doing so created one of my favorite songs.* But even without the melody, they hit the emotional bull's eye for me today.

Sorry if this makes you blush, C. But then, that's sort of the point. Forgive my very clumsy translation.

Du bist wie eine Blume,
So hold und schön und rein;
Ich schau' dich an,
Und Wehmut schleicht mir ins Herz hinein.

Mir ist, als ob ich die Hände
Aufs Haupt dir legen sollt',
Betend, dass Gott dich erhalte
So rein und schön und hold.

You are like a flower,
So pure, and beautiful, and fair;
I look at you,
And bittersweet emotion fills my heart.

It seems to me that I must
Lay my hands upon your head,
And pray that God will keep you always
So pure, and beautiful, and fair.

*You can hear a very good recording of it, by the legendary Lotte Lehmann, here.