Saturday, October 20, 2012
Letter From Home
I was late getting home because I stopped on the way to sit by the river today. Remember those short fall days when sunlight spilled the color of the leaves across the blue glass surface? The small brown trout waited in that hole beyond the maple root where the children always looked for them. Trout at peace with the world because the water was now cold and refreshing and determined children were now in school.
I sat on "our" bench. The place where you first touched my hand as I watched the breeze and sunlight play with the top of your hair and realized that you did have a few freckles. We were at peace with the world back then as well, not looking forward or back but enjoying the moment.
The woods are damp from last night's rain and the pine smells sharp when mixed with the mustiness of the first fallen leaves. The sun crosses my body in a warm caress and I loosen the green sweater that you said you liked because it brought out the red in my hair. I wear it often these days.
I bid goodbye to one more day. Its end bringing you closer to home when we can sit here together once again.