The walk back...

The mist clad greens that loomed large,around us.And the twilight that fell softly above us.The rings of hot air we breathed onto the cool air,at times on the panes of the rusted, brown wagon,always by the desolate inn.Roughly , awkardly writing our names and watch them evaporate.And the times we doubled up with laughter,at the silliness of it all, tinkling and echoing through the stretch of the tree lined road. The reverberations across the valley spreading our joy. The warmth of your palm over my hands, the weight of your arms draped over my shoulder, my safest haven, your embrace.The jerk of your body, when i broke free from intrelocked fingers and jogged ahead.

You always hated it when i did that.

But I would turn on the hairpin bend, snap my head back and saw your anger, faked by your boyish grin. And run among those tall bushes, i'd quiet my quickened breath,and strain to hear your footsteps, approaching ,clicking on the cobblestone road, looking for me. Through the mesh of leaves and twigs, stiffling giggles I would run deeper inside.

You always hated it when i did that.

The rustle as I brushed past the leaves ,cracking dried twigs beneath me.You would then come rushing through, suddenly, chasing, till you caught me by the waist and hoisted me. Grappling for balance we would roll over. That lasted through all of summer, all of fall, and each time I waited, impatiently, for you to catch up, knowing my world was coming to me, in search of me, for me. Reveling in the fluster it caused in you.

I always loved it when you did that-come for me.

And then the winds changed.With the snow you were gone.I still walk each day, in hurried, short steps, arms crossed and walk past the known bend and into the bushes,the garvel only grunted below and the silent skies stared.Unsympathetic, Unapologetic. Mocking.You would not come up behind me.To me.for me.

I hate it when you do this.

Only tonight, my knees turned jelly as I melted into the plains.rolling, feeling, your weight over me, your hands behind the nape of my neck, the tiny sharp stones pricking the back of your palm.your breath, hot in my face. The moments that froze, the time stood still, until tonight.when you walked besides, and over to the cliff ,along the precipitous edge.And all the eye could see was the dimmed horizon, faint dots brighter by the second, the free falling mass of earth and rock beneath, and all around me, the breeze growing stronger as they rounded up over the landscape and back at me. I stagger and fall back into your arms once more and close my eyes. I had found my home.Your search had ended in me.and now you were with me, in me. Then through haze of tears and disbelief, brushing the dirt off me, smoothing the creases of my skirt, tucked the straying strands behind the ears.

Acceptance came late .That you were gone. No time machine would bring you back and yet you strengthened my resolve with your absence.

Time doesn’t wait up for us to catch up. One shall move on, the past reconciled, the present embraced and and the future anticipated.

I let the arms fall by my side. Walking back, in giant strides, with purpose now. It's a long walk back.