Sometimes in winter, we'd cut class and go catch a movie. But in spring, we'd go to Manhattan to feed the squirrels in Central Park. It's a wonder we ever got our degrees. We were young lovers, not wanting to be disturbed by the nuisance of professors or other students. Instead, we wanted the romantic privacy of sitting under a tree. I would read, while he wrote. He wrote poetry to the stars, the moon and me.
Proudly he displayed it. I read it with some interest and slight appreciation. Then soon I dismissed it without a second thought. They were just his musings, his way of spending time...nothing important. At least that's what I thought then.
Later, after the wedding bells, everywhere we went he carried a camera. Not so patiently I waited while the tripod was set and the light shone just so. Many endless nights I kept him company (the good little wife) in the dark room, where the captures of the day came to life once more. Not until perfection developed, would he consider the photos finished. And I looked at them in wonder, not at their artistic merit, but at the enthusiastic perseverance that drove him to complete them.
Much has transpired - careers, more studies, family, life. Nowadays, he only talks about writing and the shutter of the expensive digital camera he owns doesn't seem to click with him.
I grieve at the missing and lost, not dead, artist I know. And faithfully, I pray that he is found.
Hubby harbors great talent. It is dormant now, and I wish it would resuscitate. His photography won him awards, one photo was published in the Daily News in New York. His successful exhibits of poetry and photography in New Mexico were innovative and replete with artistic strength. Perhaps I should fear the creativity that will explode once he recovers from this prolonged respite from the art he loves. He can spend hours on projects and the rest of the world ceases while he is in a creative mode. I miss that.
I am grateful for his support with my humble writing and I am sorry that I did not offer the same with his creativity. But today, I promise to love, honor and support the artist I live with. Maybe, we need to go feed some squirrels again.