Ultraviolet

I was suddenly able to remember the smell of dew at dawn and the look of flowers in bloom, just the way we would see them when we would walk from her house to mine and vice versa. I could remember the sweat and dew that would settle on our skin out in the various fields we might cut through, how it seemed an annoyance at the time, but how now I would do anything for that morning sun and the warmth it brings. As many colors as we would see in the flowers and weeds and houses and cars, she'd be wearing something that had more colors, and it all meshed beautifully in that early morning light. We'd try to rush the walking so we could avoid the heat, and it seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I wish we had just kept walking when we would get to where we intended to go. Together, we would never need to sto for anything. Not to be one without a jacket on a cold night, I would still be wearing mine when the morning started to get hot, and I would have nowhere to put it until we arrived. I could smell my sweat and hers, the dew, her makeup, the plants we trod on, and now I have half of a hazy recollection of the same. Relaying these memories back to she who I experienced the events with would be such bliss, to see her own memory light up and form a smile on her face, but instead I sorrowfully tell you about these memories.

I am thankful for good days, and bitter that they are gone by. Happy Thanksgiving, belated.