It was a marriage of spiderlillies and motorcycles...
In my mind's eye, I can see a picture...
An old motorcycle... mystery and beauty in its curves and design... a hint of adventure... of time passing... of life happening... of secrets kept and dreams dreamed... of hardship and struggle... and survival... of overcoming... and joy expanding... all these things and more...
An old motorcycles leaning on its kick-stand in a sea of dew-covered grass in the early morning... time-worn leather saddlebags hanging on either side... a helmet on the seat... spiderlillies dancing around the wheels and running off to play in the grass... spiderlillies catching the sun... splashing color on the landscape like blessings overflowing...
And there we are...
We came from different beginnings, you and me... north and south being the least of it... traveled far different roads to reach the spot where first we saw one another... through heaven's door... and the perfection of the joining... spiritual... emotional... physical... is a thing of beauty and constant amazement...
God planned this.
It was a classic case of hit-and-run.
The driver got into the subject vehicle... shut the door... locked it against any would-be mugger or car thief who might be jogging down the interstate at 70-miles-per-hour trying to get the door open... turned the key in the ignition... listened to the engine roar to life... she snapped her seatbelt securely... put the vehicle in reverse... and backed up...
Without looking.
Yes... on some level of consciousness... or unconsciousness... she knew there was a fence behind her... after all... she lived in the house... went through the gate a dozen times a day...
And the fence was innocent... locked in place... unable to run... or scream... couldn't even raise a post to defend itself...
It didn't have a mean link in its body... not a single crooked post... it stood there day after day... night after night... through heat and cold... through rain and snow... and protected the dogs inside its boundaries from the mean and nasty world outside the fence... protected them from the likes of... gulp... the hit-and-run driver.
And the driver just continued backing up... til she heard a scrunchy/scrapy/bendy sort of sound... and without looking... (again?)... she knew...
She pulled the truck forward... reversed... slowly backed out and around the fence this time... gazing with disbelief at the damage... or relative lack thereof... considering the bulk of the truck...
She breathed a heartfelt, "Thank You, Jesus."
A bent post... sagging chain links... not a happy fence, mind you... but one that could still bravely contain the precious treasure inside its confines...
She continued to back out of the driveway... into the road... put the truck in forward gear... and cruised slowly past the house... gazing upon the windows with sadness and sorrow... wondering if she should disturb the sleep of the lord of the manor... or let him dream on... unmindful and unbothered by the hit-and-run accident in hiw own driveway... and so she let him sleep.
She made it into the city with no further mishap... waited til the time was ripe... til she knew her husband and friend would be awake... and she called him to let him know that it was she... and not some anonymous passer-by... who had hit the fence... and run on to work... without stopping...
And he loved her anyway... and told her he was sorry her truck was scratched... and she said she was sorry the fence was crippled... and they said I love you... and wished each other a wonderful rest-of-the-day.
And that's that.
The End.