26 August 2014

Skipping down Memory Lane

It's a hot summer night, without a hint of a breeze. Tendrils of hair stick to my neck as I walk hand in hand with my lover. It's late at night here in SmallTown, well past the city-imposed curfew. We meander slowly, both because of the heat and simply because we've nowhere to rush off to. He's teasing me, and our laughter fills the night as we play hopscotch with the lamplight. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me close for a kiss, then picks me up... I halfheartedly struggle to free myself, but it's a ruse, and he knows it.





He compromises, "Come on then, piggy-back ride", he says, his charming grin as undeniable as it was the first time I laid eyes on him two years ago. I giggle like a schoolgirl...me? Piggy-back? Lord help us, I'm almost 40! But I oblige, and hop on, my legs wrapped firmly around his taut and defined waist.

We laugh as he skips down the street, carrying me like a child.

A police car slows down as it passes us, and stops. "Shhh," I say, trying unsuccessfully to regain my grown-up propriety as J puts me down, still laughing. "Yes, sir?" he asks, in his deep Southern drawl. "Your girl dropped something a few steps back," says the officer. He winks at us, "Carry on, kids." He drives off, and from the sidewalk, J retrieves the flower he'd tucked behind my ear earlier. 

Laughter in the lamplight, a kiss under the moon, and memories to keep me warm.

I'm a lucky girl.

He's been gone for months now, taking care of family in the South. Communication is sporadic, at best. Weeks go by without a word, as life gets in the way. Slowly his life has taken root there, and in unspoken agreement, we don't make plans for the future. In my heart there's an emptiness that I ignore, and I carry on. 

But he texted me last night:

"When I get back, I want to do some things with you that we haven't had a chance to do. Take you for a motorcycle ride. Fly you to Lake Tahoe and spend the night. Take you out for good sushi. Sleep under the stars with you. Sneak you off to a motel room and talk dirty to you. Help you around the house and play with the kids. Make you mine."

Pipe dreams, I know, spoken out of loneliness and longing. He's thousands of miles away, and I have no idea when (or if) I'll see him again, and yet... 

I'm a lucky girl.