Zipping out of our bedroom the other day, I glanced again at a framed poem on the wall. I wrote it years ago on an American Airlines flight from Dallas back to New York, and two Christian magazines picked it up. It spoke about the special place my wife held then, and still holds, in my life. Maybe it bears repeating here….
HOMEWARD BOUND
O Lord,
Thank you for
the someone who’s waiting
when I get home from this flight.
It’s been a long week on the road.
Lots of business
Lots of busyness
Plenty of interesting people
Bright men, bright and attractive women,
But not her.
There’s been plenty of room
to stretch out in the bed
And I didn’t even have to make
half an attempt to keep the hotel room
clean and picked up.
I could leave junk all over,
sox lying out
razor on the ledge
hair in the shower …
A housekeeper, faceless, would
pick up after me and go her way.
Yet the room held no pleasure.
It was too quiet.
Only an air conditioner hummed in the corner.
Nobody said, “I love you.”
Or “I want you.”
Or even “How was your day?”
Tonight all that will change.
I’ll be swarmed by happy kids
And a hyperactive dog
And a list of things to fix
(The plumbing always knows when I’m gone)
And familiar furniture and fun and food.
But most of all,
by the one with the shy smile and the soft skin
and the wide-set eyes that first
fascinated me 25 years ago.
By her.
The room tonight won’t be as large
And as I unpack,
I’ll have to put everything where it belongs—
And I don’t mind at all.
For this is more than my hotel.
This is more than my base of operations
Even more than my home.
This is the place of my union
My hideaway
My anchorage
My harbor.
Not just the walls and floors and ceilings;
they know nothing of what I’ll feel
in the embrace of the one
who is my earthly completion
my love
my very life.
For her, I give thanks, O God
And may the next business trip
Be a long time from now.
© Dean Merrill 1988