by Thom Amundsen

Created on: July 05, 2008

Spring mornings and our walks took on a different tone having been with each other through the long winter. We were innocent the year before - fresh and spirited with the energy that occurs when two lovers begin the journey through new intimacy, new delightful sensual pleasures, moments without restraint. Our lives now intertwined gathered a regularity that occasionally reflected a comfortable passion, yet today something felt or created an anxiety in my mind.

Our walk took us to a favorite meadow surrounded by the city, a pasture that flowed for several blocks wide and long, with heavy brush, cypress trees, and wildflowers that led to quiet coves for afternoon naps and lovers' sensuality. We would part as we entered the park and stroll along allowing one another to move in their own personal direction, and with romantic flair find ourselves together in one of the coves by mid-morning. One of us would always wait for the other, and when we discovered the other in a favorite cove a smile would send arousal across our skin as we'd search each other's souls in quiet embrace.

Today, the walk had a somber air to it as I felt less comfortable strolling alone and more dependent upon seeing my lover walk through the meadow, afraid that if I looked away, she may disappear. Gone was the confidence that when I found the cove, she would be their waiting, sitting in all of her elegance, long flowing sun dress, hair that blended and shimmered in the sparkling morning sun. Today, I was afraid this lovely vision I had known had somehow already chosen a different path.

I found the cove sooner than times past, and noticed myself standing alone, wondering if my haste would have a bearing on the usual routine of our morning; the anticipation of our passion would always build before the bliss. I couldn't sit still or rest in the tall matted grass laid before me from previous moments we'd found one another. I listened for the sign of someone walking through the brush waiting for her eyes to search mine, her fragrant skin to give air to my desire to have her with me in this reckoning moment.

In time, the moment slowly shattered and I left the cove in search of my lover. I noticed just as she walked around the gates of the local municipal stadium moving away from our little hideaway in the meadow. I called her name and though she was in earshot, her gait indicated she wouldn't be turning back. Quickly, I gathered myself and headed in her direction, occasionally repeating my calling, feeling the fear envelop me as I gained on her.

When I entered the stadium she was no where to be found. I felt alone for the first time in years, since the moments before my eyes met hers that warm summer morning two years ago. I wanted that energy to return and take away this new loneliness that I didn't want to face. Just then, I noticed her sitting in the bleachers with her face in her hands. I wanted to run to her, but I couldn't. I knew her desire, and my haste would be symbolic of no positive or reassuring outcome. I stepped nearby and sat on a bench a row away, my eyes upon her.

"Jane?", the words left my lips.

A long pause, she didn't turn my way, her hands fell from a tear-streamed face. She looked straight ahead and her posture upright and purposeful, her right hand pulled her long streaming golden hair over her right shoulder, causing my eyes to momentarily lose themselves in the quiet memory of soft gasps along her neck, when her lips moved:

"I love you," and the tears returned ...

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