In silence one day, the two sat.
Rings, no longer wishing to wear.
Too many scars, too much pain.
They left the rings just sitting there.

A glowing woman and her man settled in.
A surprise for him she began to share:
setting a table for three
for the son she is soon to bear.

Her cane shaking,
each step taken with such care,
clothes hanging loosely on her shriveled frame—
how to dress? Long have passed the days she cared.
His ashes in an urn
sit next to her there.
A promise kept.
One last time together in the chair.

I sat passively over the years, observing these scenes.
But now, I take my place in the seat.
To the east I once gazed upon the rising sun.
But now, my hair silver and thinning,
it is the sunset that draws my stare.

Two chairs sit empty on a hillside,
offering a vista to those who sit there.

Remembrance

My brother Barre’ joined us at the winery a year after we opened. He moved back to our hometown in Conroe, Texas from Fort Myers, Florida. He had been living on the beautiful Imperial River. He had two traditional white Adirondack chairs that had been on his front porch. We decided to place them on the front lawn of the winery facing the sunset.

We had grown up on the eastern shores of Mobile Bay. One of my fondest memories is walking down Fig Street with my mom, dad, and three siblings to gather on the beach with neighbors and watch the sunset.
Barre’ and I decided this was a perfect place to recreate a little sunset magic.

We thought that they would give us a special place to sit after the winery closed, enjoying the sunset with a glass of wine. And, at first, that is how it was. But over time, we began to have customers who wanted to hang out for a while and have a glass of wine. At that time, we did not have any patio tables or chairs—only the Adirondack chairs. So of course, we said take them.

I loved watching our customers sitting in the chairs. I would walk by the window and see all kinds of scenes taking place. I saw smiles, patting hands, holding hands, and clinking wine glasses. I saw a young man get down on his knees and the young girl nod with tears. I saw some very unhappy people and some sad stories as well.

But one story I remember most vividly was that of a young couple with a stroller who came in and asked to speak to both Jerri and me. They asked if we remembered them, and we acknowledged that they looked familiar but, we could not recall their names. They went on to remind us of the night they had arrived at closing time wanting a glass of wine. Jerri and I had offered to stay after hours to sit and enjoy a glass of wine with them. The four of us, they recounted, went out to the Adirondack chairs along with two folding chairs.

At this point, they introduced us to their baby girl -- and then came the rest of the story.

They proceeded to tell us that it was one year ago to the day that they had sat with us out in the Adirondack chairs sharing a glass of wine and watching the sunset. They then told us that this, their beautiful first child, began that night!

So again, we headed out to the Adirondack chairs as we laughed, celebrated, and toasted to love and life as we enjoyed another sunset.