How often do we remember departures from love? Can we recall the time and place, the moment. Looking back over the years, all of these memories had a significant moment. The more I delve, the more they come flooding to me, and I have a certain fear of returning to these moments. I’m not really sure why I am choosing to go back, perhaps it is part of my desire to recall the whole aspect of love from the joys to the pain.
My first real love was in college, we spent all of days together, we thought about living together, but either the means or our own fears kept us from making that decision. Though we were inseparable, I recall the day we began to move away from each other. I had to make a stop somewhere and while she waited in the car, a song came on, that I had heard many times but never acknowledged with her. The song was her name, and when I got in the car, she was listening, and she turned to me and said this song is about me, and it was, a woman finding her way, and leaving.
Later in life I would meet my next love who would take me to Europe and somewhere on the travel it was clear we were in our final days. There was a night in particular, staying in a hovel in Ireland, my bags packed, I imagined waking up early and leaving, knowing there was no reason to stay. Later that morning as we were having breakfast I looked her in the eyes and I noticed there were tears. I suggested we make the last leg of our trip the best we could, and we did, knowing when we returned to the States it would be our final days.
My last story stems around a drive home. We began a conversation about the holidays, I guess it was me that broached the subject. We spoke of the blues, and how the time of year can be really tough on people, and probably more trying for the two of us. I remember a silence then I could never dissuade from that moment on. I could feel it and without going into detail, I can feel it today.
I suppose a cool wind is the only way I might attach a metaphor to the loss of love. The breeze is apparent and you can feel the chill as if there is no way to find shelter from that impending storm ahead. I suppose finding the beauty in the warm winds of love and the elegance we feel in reminding ourselves of the lasting memory does help stem the tide. I suppose appreciation is better than focusing on alternatives.
I suppose love holds reign on the cool breeze as much as it does a scorching sunset.
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I am a writer. I've always wanted to write intriguing words. Don't we all. Aren't we all wanting to be experts in the language of love, sensuality, desire, provocative notions? Well, I'm giving it a try. Join me if you'd like, and please share any feedback you think would help my adventure :)
apersonaljourney - stories of love 
When A Cool Wind Struck
Posted at 3:19 pm by a quiet man, on March 4, 2019
How often do we remember departures from love? Can we recall the time and place, the moment. Looking back over the years, all of these memories had a significant moment. The more I delve, the more they come flooding to me, and I have a certain fear of returning to these moments. I’m not really sure why I am choosing to go back, perhaps it is part of my desire to recall the whole aspect of love from the joys to the pain.
My first real love was in college, we spent all of days together, we thought about living together, but either the means or our own fears kept us from making that decision. Though we were inseparable, I recall the day we began to move away from each other. I had to make a stop somewhere and while she waited in the car, a song came on, that I had heard many times but never acknowledged with her. The song was her name, and when I got in the car, she was listening, and she turned to me and said this song is about me, and it was, a woman finding her way, and leaving.
Later in life I would meet my next love who would take me to Europe and somewhere on the travel it was clear we were in our final days. There was a night in particular, staying in a hovel in Ireland, my bags packed, I imagined waking up early and leaving, knowing there was no reason to stay. Later that morning as we were having breakfast I looked her in the eyes and I noticed there were tears. I suggested we make the last leg of our trip the best we could, and we did, knowing when we returned to the States it would be our final days.
My last story stems around a drive home. We began a conversation about the holidays, I guess it was me that broached the subject. We spoke of the blues, and how the time of year can be really tough on people, and probably more trying for the two of us. I remember a silence then I could never dissuade from that moment on. I could feel it and without going into detail, I can feel it today.
I suppose a cool wind is the only way I might attach a metaphor to the loss of love. The breeze is apparent and you can feel the chill as if there is no way to find shelter from that impending storm ahead. I suppose finding the beauty in the warm winds of love and the elegance we feel in reminding ourselves of the lasting memory does help stem the tide. I suppose appreciation is better than focusing on alternatives.
I suppose love holds reign on the cool breeze as much as it does a scorching sunset.
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Author: a quiet man
I am a writer. I've always wanted to write intriguing words. Don't we all. Aren't we all wanting to be experts in the language of love, sensuality, desire, provocative notions? Well, I'm giving it a try. Join me if you'd like, and please share any feedback you think would help my adventure :)