A photo of two friends, a husband and wife, hugging, waist-deep in the Mediterranean sea, flits across my social media page.

My mind immediately trips me up, spitting me out of contentment with the speed of a child emptying a bowl of mushed peas onto the floor. “C.C. and you will never do that again,” the harsh, woebegone critic hisses. I remind him he’s not welcome here, but the critic pays no heed. His niggling at my peace is relentless.

C.C. is my husband. His health has been severely compromised by COPD and a year of on-again, off-again pneumonia. With each passing day, the list of ‘Things we’ll never do together again’ grows.

This struggle, watching his health decline while my attitude eroded, is why Dear Me, I Love You, was born. I saw a harshness creeping into my voice and a lack of care: who cares if the soup is slopping onto the tray? He should be thankful I serve him at all! That negativity required a fast attitude adjustment.

Whether life is getting me down or lifting me up, writing these poems grounds me in the moment. Like the automatic joy of children’s laughter, writing urges me to stop peering into the darkness and look up. I’m learning that the true challenge isn’t a lack of Love — Love flows, always, everywhere. The challenge is my attitude.

Life Now, Life Imagined
by Louise Gallagher

I struggle some days
to balance
life now
with life imagined.

How two words
juxtaposed
jammed together
have the power
to redefine me.

I struggle to contain
the roles I inhabit
Lover,
friend,
partner,
co-conspirator
and in all of it, that word.
Caregiver.

The heavier the struggle
the greater the need
to retreat
and find solace
in the one place
that soothes 
my confusion
my fear
my anger.

Love.
No matter how
battered and torn
my heart
is all I have
to lean into.