Picture of Helen, taken about a decade ago, by Warren, in the hill behind their home.
I asked Warren to tell me about it, and that became our poem.

“That Day,” by Warren

I remember that day, clearly
We were running up the hill,
stopping from time to time.
Laughing, always laughing,
looking out towards the Green Mountains
and down at the farm,
the kids running and laughing.

And we came to that meadow,
the one in the picture,
the one Helen loved so much,
the one where we always stopped,
and Helen would sit among the Beebalm,
and there, you can see, she is sitting in it,
happy as a lark
surrounded by the flowers she loved so much
and surrounded by the sunshine,
and by the people who loved her.

I remember that day,
it was unusual for me to have a camera,
but when I saw her,
I couldn’t pass up an opportunity
to take her picture
and how glad I am that I did,
it captured what Helen was,
happy, loving flowers, the farm,
the family,
warm summer days.

I needed, wanted
to chisel that moment
in marble as best I could
You could see the joy in her face.
Think, just think, how beautiful it is.
She’s laughing, running through the hills,
a moment that will never turn to vapor.
It is always real.