The sun reflected off her skin.
Even though it was late in the day,
She wanted to soak up every chance,
To have the rays upon her – chasing.
So she would keep moving her chair to be in the line,
Of the now setting sun.
I would oblige, and move with her.
This was somehow a living metaphor.
A moment of metaphoric detail.
So many promises.
Or were they dreams?
A velum coating over candied visions of the ever after.
And then…that bounce of time.
Here then gone.
Still, I always moved with her.
In no uncertain order, like a fractured creed:
“Remember when you said you would…?”
“And then I said…”
“Whatever happened to…?”
“Oh…yes, I am – I will. Don’t remind me.”
“Just a half hour more of sun…”
The water was no longer cold,
And the calm breeze was cooler against my legs.
Moving with her.
Drifting in her moment,
One, long, ongoing, continuous…m-o-m-e-n-t.
Tomorrow matters not.
It is now.
The endearments that endeared me to her…
“Can you please put more lotion on my back?”
“If I can just push the sun up a little higher.”
“I’m going to send…I’m going to call – write – build – dream…when I get home.”
There’s just life…and all things whimsical, precious, and sweet.
I am with her.
© copyright 2015 Denise Rafkind Photography