A Life Built Together

"I want you to cuddle up ... closer ... closer... put your arm around her. It's OK. You're married. You're not gonna get in trouble."

Often when I'm photographing elderly couples, I tease them and direct them to stand closer, to invade each other's personal space. Sometimes they laugh; sometimes they give me a stern look and slowly start to gently wrap their arms around each other, a small grin on their face as they shake their head at me.

My favourite moment is when I tell them to look at each other and they stare into each other's eyes, and I just wait for the first smile to break through.

Because after 40 years together, you stop staring at each other. And after 40 years together, things look different: The jawline is softer; the hair is shorter. They look like their grandparents and you realize you do, too.

The giggles start — the teasing, the content feeling of just enjoying this moment with one another. And often, when they walk away, they're still laughing, this moment fading into one of the many they've already shared together.

Having spent the last few years of my life talking about love — writing, discussing, theorizing, decolonizing and making — at the end of the day, nothing makes my heart happier than hearing my parents talk to each other. Invariably, my dad will say something to make my mom laugh, and she’ll laugh loudly — joyful, head tossed back, often with one hand covering her mouth.

My parents move in sync, sometimes silent, often chuckling, as they prep for a trip up river or a drive down the road.

And as casually as I often speak about love, my parents remind me that the grace of growing old with someone is nothing to be dismissive about. The beauty of having someone's hand to hold for a thousand sunsets and a thousand more — that is all we can hope for. Someone who sees us for who we are, flawed and imperfect, and who loves us fiercely as hair turns grey, eyes grow wrinkled and laugh lines deepen.

These photographs and poems remind me to open my heart to the possibilities of happily ever after.

we met in late spring
the ground was damp and soft
by the next moon
my heart was his

right now
we hold hands under city lights
and walk on concrete
when he smiles
I see echoes of the Elder
he will be

I indulge and imagine
walking down a rez road
a bucket full of blueberries
to be picked and cleaned
hand in hand with him

I see a life of road trips
country music as you sing along
hand in hand across the seats
silent but sitting in a thousand stories
and remember when’s

I see brown babies and late nights
birthday parties and cousins running wild
days at the beach evenings on the boat
always and always
hand in hand

I want to grow old with you
watch your wrinkles grow and deepen
under the passing full moons
I want to see grey hairs appear
and strong shoulders stoop
as our families grow

I will tell our grandchildren
we met in late spring

I lost count of the number of times
you said I love you
after a decade or two
after black hair turned grey
after eyes grew dull and glasses appeared
the I love you’s faded
and something else stood in place

I love you
became trips back and forth
to a truck full of groceries
eyelashes freezing with cold tears
in minus forty weather

I love you
was keeping the kids quiet
Saturday morning cartoons on low
country music playing in the kitchen
waking up to bacon frying
and realizing
you didn’t have to do any of it

I love you
was holding hands outside hospital walls
watching parents age and planning funerals
I love you
was holding your daughter close
as she cried over first heartbreaks
and holding your sons closer
telling them it’s okay to cry

I love you
became the gaze of a first grandchild
and trips across the province
to watch hockey in cold arenas one again
I love you
melted into Saturday morning cartoons
grandchildren cuddled around you
coffee cup in hand and a soft smile never fading

I love you
is a life
built together

our love story
is a northern love story
beginning with do you remember
shy grins and gifted bannock
fresh moose meat delivered to doorsteps
and quiet meals under
setsune’s teasing smile

do you remember
how the northern lights danced
the first time I kissed you
how blueberries emerged in winter
when you told me you loved me

do you remember
how my beadwork became magic
beads laying flat never missing a stitch
when you opened my heart
and do you remember
when your eyes met mine
that first time I blushed
you could always make me blush

me my cheeks grew warm and red
I had to look away
I couldn’t help looking back though
trying to sly and sneaky
arctic fox chasing prey
I didn’t know
I was already caught
because I wasn’t the fox
I was the nourishment
that would give you life
coming full circle

do you remember
when we began?