Sometimes I wish we stayed on the island where we honeymooned and bought that bed and breakfast, you remember, the Frangiapani. But when we found that fresh water was hard to come by, and was imported from a farther shore, and that the mountains were not movable and made construction slow... it seemed a daunting task... so we forgot to want it any more. How I loved you then.
And we sailed away for many days on surreal green seas as our bodies swam in foreign water hotter than refreshing. Playing scrabble and listening to the transistor radio spit out flickerings of far away cricket games. Drinking beer under an impossibly starry sky. I held you fast and hoped the universe couldn't see the love, because I knew a jealous universe would take you for her own.
We laughed on tennis courts where your nonathletic bride showed off a surprise skill. We ran around the cliffs like children and pretended to find one another even though we weren't lost. I was never lost with you. You define found.
All these years and children later. All these days of hard work and harder love. All the effort and the time well spent can't take the wish away from me. The secret wish I harbor still, the what if, and what would be...
If we had stayed on the island where we honeymooned and bought the Frangiapani.