We were on the road along the coast.
You were driving. I was in the seat next to you, and the dogs were in the back of the truck.
There was no traffic. Just us.
Through the leaves and branches of the trees, the sunlight and blue sky spilled.
The shadows of the leaves and branches blotched and divided the path.
And the sticky, salty breeze caressed our faces.
We were talking. Talking about us, our life. How lucky we had been. All through ups and downs and through your illness, we had been and were together.
I then said, without looking at you, that you were it, that you were my love.
You stopped talking and, with your eyes fixed forward, held my hand with one free hand.
We remained silent and stared at the road ahead.
As I stand alone, I feel that you are watching the road with me.
There will be uphills as well as downhills, I suspect.
Though I am uncertain about many things, I keep taking steps, one at a time, plodding slowly, on the road.