Impressions

He loved me completely. At times soft and sweet, then with the passion and fury of a madman unleashed. He teased me with his sweet words and played me with his strong fingers. When we made love the mountains moved and the heavens opened to hear our cries. When we came down our bodies molded into one, with no beginning and no end. When he was gone I wept, not for the loss but for what he had given to me. He left an impression on my heart that nobody would ever be able to fill.

Midnight Cowboy

He’s back, my midnight cowboy. Singing sweet words in his deep whiskey siren voice for an audience of one. Night after endless night playing in smoky bars didn’t catapult him to fame. He returned slightly rumpled, ego bruised and I welcomed him with a standing ovation. I inhaled the smell of his cologne and sweat as I pulled him tightly to me and whispered in his ear, “Welcome home cowboy.”

Sailing

The sun peeked through the bedroom curtains, casting a glow on his scruffy beard, and my head raced with excitement. We’d waited through weeks of rain for this beautiful clear spring morning. I didn’t want to waste any of it. I did have a small pang of regret for waking him. He was so peaceful and beautiful in slumber. I could watch him for hours, his normally furrowed brow at rest, long dark lashes hiding his mesmerizing cornflower blue eyes. But this morning I couldn’t wait. I shook him like a child waking her parents on Christmas morning. “Spencer. Wake up.”

After a stop at the coffee shop – black coffee for him, Earl Grey for me – we walked hand in hand to the park. I tipped my head back, allowed the sun to warm my face and smiled. “You’re beautiful.” I turned to see his grinning face, heart-shaped lips stained red from the fresh strawberries we ate at breakfast. I waggled my eyebrows at him, “Race you” then took off running, laughter bouncing off the tree branches.

When we reached Conservatory Water I slowed and approached in awe. It was our first visit of the season and I marveled at the deep blue color of the glassy water. The light wind would be perfect for sailing boats. When we were finally ready we put our boats in the water and I watched the surface break, sending wave after tiny wave out in perfect circles. We looked at each other as if we were five-years-old, the innocence and wonder of a child pure in our eyes. A simple nod was all it took – our boats were in the water, set adrift to wait for a puff of wind that would send them sailing as far as our hearts allowed.

The Voice

My heels sunk into the soft grass. I didn’t care that they would be ruined but I couldn’t help but wonder why women wore heels to funerals or why they didn’t put something on the ground for women to walk on so they wouldn’t ruin their heels. It was a strange thought to have, considering the circumstances. My face showed no sign of the turmoil brewing deep within. A drunk driver had not only killed my husband, but by default had killed me too. I was only a shell left to muddle through the days as if life had a meaning. A single tear escaped my eye and snaked down my cheek. Making no move to wipe it away I stood woodenly alone. Too soon my family and friends would descend, smiles plastered on their faces, feigned concern in their voice. No, for now I was alone. I broke the silent morning air. “You bastard. How could you leave me?” Then finally, I smiled. Because in my head I could hear his voice echoing back. “You know, you’re ruining your favorite heels.”

Game Over

We were on the precipice, our future in the balance. What you said next would determine the rest of our life. I bit my lip and held my breath, waiting for you to speak. Seconds ticked by, agonizingly slow, your face betraying no sign of the emotions you held within. I silently exhaled, my lungs crying for oxygen. Waiting for an answer was like slow torture. Finally, you spoke. “You’re too good for me.” GAME OVER

America’s Pastime

I enjoyed the view from the hospitality suite. He stepped beside me and held out a frosty bottle of beer. We stood in silence, sipping the cold brew and drinking in the sight of the Temple of Baseball laid out below. Players in bright white pants and bold red shirts dotted the emerald field in various stages of warm-up. Some stretched, some hit, some threw, some ran. Some merely stood talking, about what I wondered. Game strategy perhaps, or maybe something as simple as what they had planned for their day off – one day in the middle of a long stretch of back to back to back to back games. My eyes darted back and forth from one group of players to another, not settling on one spot for very long before moving again. It was a visual delight.

I breathed the smell of popcorn and hot dogs and beer and fresh cut grass and summer air, a combination unique to a baseball stadium. “It’s a beautiful day. Thank you for inviting me.” I turned to him, meeting his cornflower blue eyes. My stomach flipped at the upturned corners of his plump lips and the apple cheeks that formed when he grinned. His deep southern drawl still melted my heart. “Darlin’, baseball is no longer my favorite pastime.”

A Walk in The Clouds

We’ve almost reached our destination. We’re on final approach. The flight was unforgettable. Mostly smooth with a few bumps, some unexpected turbulence. But that’s what made it so entertaining. We soared to such heights you and I, on our journey together. But we always knew there would be an end to our story. So, take my hand as we glide back to earth. Take one more look through the clouds at the vast blue sky. Too soon we will alight and become strangers once again.

Seasons of Love

We met on a bright spring morning. Under the pink blooms of the dogwood trees in the park. I hadn’t wanted him to pursue me. I did everything in my power to discourage him. Still he persisted. And I resisted. For as long as I could, I shut him out, afraid to give him my heart. His charm proved to be unavoidable. I fell hard. When I love, I love completely. But when I lose . . . He loved me back, for a while. It wasn’t long and it wasn’t enough. In the end, I had an empty space where my heart used to be.

We met on a crisp autumn morning. Under the flaming red leaves of the dogwood trees in the park . . .