Home from work.
SM is out in Fayetteville this evening and after a quick phone call to say "Be safe, see you when you get home"...I'm out on the back porch enjoying the evening, reading a few chapters from my favorite book and drinking some wine.
I've felt quiet these past few days. Not quite sad. And melancholy is too strong a word.
Mellow, I guess.
I lay back for a time relaxing, cushions behind me to support my head as I look out upon my own private patch of blue.
The swing moves gently back and forth and I notice the breeze moves the leaves on the trees and bushes in a similar pattern. Back and forth...just a swinging. Just like me.
Casey comes over to investigate and tries to lay on top of me breaking the spell. Making me laugh with her kisses. Silly dog.
Ginny comes over and "hums" at me with jealousy. I give her a scratch and then push both dogs away from me.
It's as quiet as it can be in the "hood". I hear my neighbor call for her daughter..."Emma, come in for dinner."
I remember other blue skies though, other soft breezes, other moments in time that I thought I'd capture forever.
But it's gone, quick as the teardrops that I wipe from the corner of my eyes.
"Freakin hormones." I say to myself but I know that's not it at all.
It's time. (Or maybe the wine.)
One day, someone else will be looking up at her own patch of blue sky, feeling the soft fur of an old dog and she'll wonder "How can I capture this moment? How can I make it stay?" and know that she can not.
Oh, to be this fragile being. To know what it is to have that simple peace for a single moment. And to know that others have felt it too, and watched it pass from their grasp.
You can't hold time. You can hold the memory though. Or try to.
For as long as it lasts.