The Gift of Air
Air.
Basic, indeed; essential, but hardly a constant awareness. Like blinks and heartbeats, air is the “given” we take for granted…
…until it is absent.
“I can’t breathe,” moaned George Floyd with a knee on his throat.
“I can’t breathe,” gasp COVID-19 sufferers.
“I can’t breathe,” choke whole communities in the pacific northwest as wildfires rage.
Suddenly air is something we cannot take for granted.
“I can’t breathe,” Adam and Eve might have said – if they could have spoken at all – until God breathed into them the very breath of life.
Which is to say that it never really was something we could take for granted. And we try not to. Living, as we do, in the country, strolling through the wooded trails or amidst the native prairie, we bask in it. In this season we relish the briskness as well as the clarity of it.
Breathe in; breathe out. Such is the antiphon of life. Air is one on a very short list of items we can’t live without. Air, food, and – well, one other thing:
“All I need is the air that I breathe, and to love you,” sang the Hollies a few decades ago.
Yes, to both of those.
It is a topic on my mind because our wedding anniversary has rolled around again – September 20 being the official day of celebration – and according to one source the suggested gift for the 23rd anniversary is “Air.” Huh? I’ll admit that my first reaction upon reading that note was deflation – air, after all, being hard to slide on a finger or hang by a chain around a neck, or hook on a wall like conventional gifts. You can’t wrap it, wear it, or display it. Not even Amazon sells or delivers it, with or without a Prime membership. The marital website I consulted gamely tried to make the best of it. Suggested applications were “balloons” (hardly very inspiring), a “hot air balloon ride” (definitely not on Lori’s wish list), or “airplane tickets” (enticing, but not during a pandemic).
The more I live with the idea, however, the more and more I’m drawn to it – perhaps because you can’t buy it, only receive and protect it. Air, that ubiquitous but perilously fragile element we cannot afford to ignore, choke off, or pollute, precisely like the love for which it is a token.
At least in year 23.
As far as I’m concerned, it can stand in for all the gift suggestions for every anniversary to come, if for no other reason than to remind me.
Breathe in; breathe out.
Love in; love out.
Kiss; kissed.
A tender whisper.
A delighted gasp.
A contented sigh.
A playful breath in the ear.
Air.
Invisible, but demonstrably manifest.
Everywhere, until it is scarce.
With the rhythm of my lungs to remind me of what I cannot live without.
All I need is the air that I breathe…
…and to love you.
Happy anniversary, my love, my breath.
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