As I am walking to the train station this morning a tiny flash of something bright falls just outside of my vision. It is a small golden leaf that lands on my shoulder. Being in my favorite season, I smile at the thought of autumn in New York City coming to its glory. I start to simply flick it off and go on about my day, but it somehow lands in my palm instead.
Then the heart does the one thing nothing else can do – make time stop for a moment as I am transported back some twenty years into the past.
It is a Sunday evening, the last night of an impromptu weekend trip with my late-husband to the Poconos. He is inside refreshing a drink. I am outside in my underwear leaning on the porch rail enjoying the view of the mountains that are basked in the warm bright colors of early sunset that washed the autumn foliage before me in rich shades before the sun reaches the ochre and indigo phases of its descent. With the annoying ability to walk on cat feet when he chooses to I do not hear him approach, but the heat from the eternal furnace that is his body reaches me just before he does and I turn to face him. He has on even less than I, and by the easy smile playing along his lips I am well aware of how much he likes what he sees before him. Wordlessly, he takes a slow sip of his drink as he reaches up to pull something from my hair and let it go. I extend my hand and a small golden leaf falls onto my open palm. It rests only for a moment before he gently blows it away and steps into my arms to kiss me. I remember wishing that we had more time there to enjoy ourselves before heading back to reality.
And reality reasserts itself back into my current life as a warm gust of air gently blows the fallen leaf from my palm.
It felt so eerily like his breath on my palm from that long ago evening; I shivered in remembrance. I have been trying to shake it off all morning, but here I am decades after the fact, hours after the memory, wishing I could once again enjoy the taste of Black Label on his lips.
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Raivenne, I don’t think you want to shake that memory. How beautiful. It really is amazing how the mind works and what small things can trigger wonderful memories.
You may be right about not wanting to shake the memory, Arjeha. Still I can’t help wishing I could deal with the sweet, without the bitter. Thank you.
Such a powerful memory! I like to think it was his breath on your palm. So glad you felt this connection via a golden leaf on the palm of your hand.
Perhaps it was his breath, Ramona, who knows?
Thanks.
Wowza. I thought for a moment that I was reading Fifty Shades! Whew.
As I kept reading, though, I really felt the tenderness in your memory. I feel how much you miss him, I really do. I feel, for a moment, how much you LONG for him again.
Beautiful. Really beautiful. The ending line will stay with me… the taste of Black label on his lips.
I’m glad you were able to feel some of it, too. Thank you Dana.
Such a beautiful slice – and a beautiful memory to have return to you in a lovely way.
Thank you Tara.
Such a perfect string of words, Raivenne! You capture the memory and the present moment in such beautiful prose! I am reminded of a quote by Tom Stoppard: “Words are sacred. They deserve respect. If you get the right ones, in the right order, you can nudge the world a little”. I think your blog post does just that 🙂
Such a lovely compliment, Sara Renae. Thank you!