there seem be a lot of these recently…
that one kiss on the couch. that unexpected, passionate, venomous sweet kiss. i’m biting my lip.
that one night camping. the chance introduction, the friendly invitation. the playful and thoughtful interaction around the fire. the innocent adolescent ending to the evening.
that random act of mischief. the impulsive suggestion, that reactive u-turn, the sprint to the field, one by one, the rush of the getaway. pumpkins!
that day on the highway. oh my gosh. that day on the highway. you didn’t even need to call. the adrenaline hit from that 10 minute chase to the 10 second climax, was enough to last me a year.
the quintessential bonfire on the beach. the wane of our indian summer, the symbiotic fusion of friends. the police officer who so seriously asked us to recite “what we learned,” as he prematurely curtailed our night. and the donation of our leftover wood, with our leftover beer cans, to the more law-abiding neighbor fire goers.
that random late night call. the prelude to conscious dialogue, the wake of my blushing confusion, the subsequent entertaining interlude before i went back to sleep.
that catch on the trapeze! the perception of risk, the psyche of letting go, the moment it all just clicks.
that halloween night. that pink wig and witches brew. the company in the room, the conversations, the unforeseen turn of events, the play of the night.
that next day. maybe not perfect for you. but perfect for me.
another few days later. the hit. the preamble happy hour, the cosmic sense of confidence, fueled by cocktails, the new moon, and arbitrary flirtatious interactions. or maybe it was the precarious adventure around town, the slightly cute indie rock cab driver, and that parting kamikazi shot.
that maiden race day. the escalating anticipation of the biting cold water, the infectious energy of the crowd, the eager amoeba of athletes. the addictive thrill of competition. i want more.
that week of inspiring encounters. the discussion of changing the world. the energy of possibility, the recurring realization that it just might make a difference.
that first rain of autumn. the season changing. the shift in weather, perspectives, desires. the nostalgia of being 6, wearing a canary yellow rubber coat and matching boots, just to take them off and jump barefoot in the puddles.
that night of crying so hard it hurt. in my soul. so hard i curled up in the corner of the shower, hoping the water would somehow disguise the tears, and dilute the pain.
the. perfect. moment.
the next day, like the dawn after that first rain, so crisp. so clear.