Caitlyn Usticke
i wish for you
a child who picks up his towels
the world's biggest pumpkin
an indelible image of her in the green sweater,
a whole separate building for reptiles
i wish for you
a bassinette touching the bed
a thousand thread count sheets
time to trace the lines around his eyes
hundreds of walks down the road
tolerance for the dirt kicked up by stroller wheels and
tracked in by canines,
earthly evidence of this family
you're creating
with the most impressive bravado
i wish for you
the best college send-off for your girl
and space for her return
an infinity of texts from boston
to vermont and back
she'll hold the baby
you'll pack and unpack the car
as the arrow of time
moves through the making and unmaking
of your lives,
i wish for you
a magic pen, invisible ink
that only the other can see
beginning today, start weaving words –
"kindness" "devotion" "happiness" –
around and around your bodies
until an intricate carpet starts to form
keep watching as all the space
fills in with love
— written by erica bodwell for our wedding, august 13, 2010