early evening in the attic

The city’s summer breeze encouraged the early evening to be mellow and light.

It’s the kind of evening that creates space for a much needed thunderstorm.  The stained glass windows emit a warm, brazen glow.  She wonders if the warmth from within is making friends with the red, orange and navy hues cascading through the room.  She hopes so.  As she strolls into the room she feels a familiar pang when she sees his face and the shape of his body sprawled comfortably in his chair.  She didn’t expect to see him there.  His long, lean frame would be useful in combat.  Its contours have a way of taking her on a journey through past lives.  Her grapefruit glow is protecting her from her fear and childlike excitement.  She quickly finds her seat and keeps her espadrille adorned feet on the floor.  She worries she might otherwise float away.  She likes thinking of him somewhere far away, the way she thinks about all strong forces in her life; perhaps perched on a cloud or galavanting through enchanted forests.  Her loose fitting chambray blouse is buttoned up to her neck.  She’s pleased at her chicness and the way her silk shorts, cinched at the waist, give the billowing shirt extra edge.  Her sophisticated armor never fails at protecting the small and fragile little girl inside, the one with a big bow in her hair.

She listens to him speak, she replies, and he smiles at her.   It’s the kind of smile that says, “I know you, or at least I think I do, and I love you anyway.”  She feels a mixture of terror and delight; similar to the feeling she gets when she eats an overly spicy mango from a street vendor.  Why does nature’s candy taste better with a little bit of spice?   She looks down at the old wooden floor and is thankful for its imperfections; the scratches and knots, details that make it beautiful.  She closes her eyes and breathes.  It’s all she can do. She thinks of her new flame and the breakfast he made that they shared in his well tended garden- the feeling of closeness and comfort.  She savors the thought and feeling.  She knows, like all things, it’s fleeting.

photo: inside Sagrada Familia

-dh

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s