An old memory
It was a sunny day.
We were hurling along the long stretch of road,
bending along its curves and turns.
She kept her hands gently resting on my shoulders.
The gush of strong winds ran across our faces
and would sometimes pull out tears from of our eyes.
With long moments of silence between us,
our hearts were filled with the beauty of the island.
The gentle warmth of the sun created impressions.
The distant sea gleamed in our eyes as if calling us,
reminding us of the warmth of returning home after a long haul.
We stopped by an old arched gate
overlooking a temple standing against tall trees.
We walked passed it feeling the sand beneath our feet.
An old carpenter was sitting under the trees watching his son.
The boy was working hard to create a little wooden toy for himself.
His dad overlooking his amateur skills
recollecting his early days and his love for the craft.
We stood by his side and exchanged smiles.
The love and sincerity in his eyes
visioned me of a version of myself I might be someday.
We moved along the path and down some old stone stairs
and found ourselves near the sea, somehow hidden behind the tall trees.
We took a path down to the beach and we ran forth like children,
stepping lightly in the surf, the ocean pulsing beneath our feet.
That bright day with the cold wind blowing against us,
the smell of the sand, the sea, welter of memory and us.
We sat on the sands for hours of silence,
watching a trail of ants walking and working together,
a dungeness crab scuttling by
and small clams moving slowly towards the water.
Years later I do not remember much about what I did or what I could.
What sticks in our memory is not the usual things we try to plan.
For I remember the warmth of her hands against mine,
the gush of winds blowing her hair against her face,
the feel of love and peace I had in my heart
and the unfinished trail of memories it left in our lives.