They were married
over sixty years,
and she was in her nineties
when she told me,
musingly,
"I always thought
he was in love
with his secretary."
I protested,
"But your marriage
was so wonderful!"
I didn't want it
to be true,
was fairly certain
it wasn't true.
But she
shook her head,
and continued.
"I looked in
his desk drawer
one Christmas.
It was the 30's
and we had
no money.
And there was
a box of chocolates
in the drawer.
They were for her.
I know he admired her.
She was
calm and professional,
well-dressed and
unflustered,
and at home
I was often angry,
struggling to manage
all those kids
and put food on the table."
They stayed together
to the end.
We looked to them
as a model
of what marriage
could be.
They were both
the very soul
of propriety.
But was he happy?
She made me
wonder,
that day,
talking about
that box of chocolates.
