March 2012  Sweetness    John Calvi

 

There are sweet parts of my life that I am grateful for. Sweet parts I didn’t expect and couldn’t have imagined along all these long decades of living. There’s our little house perched on a hillside facing the Sun each day. There’s my work that has been a great teacher and constant source of wondering how the pieces fit together- what are the moves of healing trauma, of ending torture, and gaining trust in times of great pain.

 

But there is one particular sweetness that comes most nights after dinner. My husband Marshall and I choose a movie. We settle in on the futon with dozens of pillows and lap robes. By and by as the movie unfolds, we sit side by side my arm across his shoulders, and later he slouches down so his head rests on my chest. And this is the moment of the greatest sweetness in my life- I hold him in my arms and kiss the top of his head. 

 

I never expected such luxury in my whole life- a peaceful quiet beautiful home with true love. No one said to my 20-year-old self this awaits you years hence. Nobody dared tell the 30 year old up to my armpits in AIDS work that at 60 I would be an old married man more happy than ever before. And maybe I couldn’t have believed them anyway. But here it is. My greatest sweetness in life is a simple bit of tenderness and a luxury I hope for many.