Winter Dream

Sparkling off the water, the late afternoon sun streams through the tall windows. Your silhouette is almost washed away in the bright light.

You made good time.

I nod. "Left a little earlier. Missed most of the traffic." As I bend over your chair for a kiss.

"I'll put the stuff away. There is plenty of time for a walk. Maybe put the boat in the water before supper."

Sounds good. I feel your eyes on me as I moves about.

The small dock at the bottom of the yard is the perfect place to watch the sunset. Watch the white clouds change to pink, peach, lavender and magenta and indigo into black. The broken reflections of the lights across the lake bounce on the water. Fireflies flit about in their mating dance. Stars dazzle as birds fall silent.

Leftover smoke from the grill lingers, waiting for a breeze. The warm, moist air is heavy with the scent of fresh-cut grass and jasmine. The wooden dock still holds the memory of last year's suntan lotion and motor oil.

Tree frogs start their summer rhythm, only to be overshadowed by cicadas. The lake gently slaps against the side of the boat. The bark of a dog carries over the water. Somewhere, a fish splashes as it snaps at an insect. Mosquitos hum. Echoes of voices and laughter hang in the air. The creak and slam of a screen door, hollow footsteps on the dock.

We sit side by side, our feet dangle over the edge of the dock, I rest my hand on yours, interlacing our fingers. Your scent is fixed in my mind. Our breaths, our heartbeats synchronize. Silently we stare into the black night.

"I've always looked forward to coming here. It's so peaceful." I break the silence and feel your nod, your agreement. We squeeze of our hands. "Our best memories have been made here. I wish we could go back and relive all the ones we've made." I whisper.

I want to go back to when you first wrapped your arms around me and pulled me so close till my head rested against you. I could both feel and hear the rumble of your voice. Let's get wet! You said. I shrieked like a little girl when we plunged into the cold water. I laughed and clung to you. My legs wrapped themselves around you, your arms around my back. Our lips met.

Our first kiss.

I want to feel how we slowly drifted away from the dock, wrapped up in each other's arms. We fit so perfectly. The world faded till there was nothing but us. Just us, the lake and the stars.

You're beautiful. No, don't scoff. I'm looking at you. I get to decide.

I think I love you.

I know I love you.

Let's go back to that rowboat drifting in the middle of the lake, the oars pulled in. Remember how we had pushed cushions together into an impromptu bed, how the sun was our blanket? We kissed long and deep all afternoon. We touched, smiled, caressed and laughed.

And back to that star-lit beach. Where we explored, encouraged, asked, begged, gave and took. Where we learned to share and whispered words of love and promise that floated away and stayed forever.

Do you like that? Yes. More. And that? Yes, all of it. All of you. Please.

Stay with me.

I'll never leave you. Trust me.

I do. I do.

I want to hear our children's high-pitched voices bounce off the water again, as they laugh, run, chase and tumble. To see those sandcastles that were built and abandoned, only to be rebuilt the next day. All those action figures, balls and dump trucks that were lost, forgotten and found the next year. I want to go back to when we could easily cure scraped knees and tears with hugs, kisses, band aids, tickles and ice cream. When each year they were a little better at sitting still while fishing off the dock. When swimming lessons always had lots of water wings, ear-piercing shrieks and belly laughs. When messy foods were devoured with ketchup grins.

I want to go back to the evenings, when the last of the sunscreen was washed away, when the last of the fireflies were chased, when those little bodies, wrapped in pajamas and our protective arms finally fell asleep. To hear the same tree frogs and cicadas preform their serenade, again. To smell the heady scent of jasmine mixed with the sweet smell of our toddler. To snuggle with you again and whisper over two sleepy heads.

What do you think? Public or private school? Can we afford it? Are we doing this parenting thing right?

To feel us intertwined huddled and cocooned again.

Let's put them to bed and come back.

I want to make love with you on the beach one more time. Baby monitors nearby.

I love you.

I love you more.

Let's go back to when they were growing into teenagers and played volleyball on the beach. When water wings had been replaced by inner tubes and waterskies. To laugh again at their endless teasing, competing, giggling and joking. When petty quarrels, rivalries and growing pains seem to have been suspended. Let's watch swan dives and cannon balls be practiced and perfected.

To turn a blind eye when an occasional beer was sneaked. Listen to loud music that overpowered even the cicadas. Knowing that curfews were broken, and dark corners always found.

Even back to when we had trust, faith and our fingers crossed.

I wish we could have the end of the day be our time, again and to stroll once more along the beach, hand in hand while we whisper and laugh, reminisce and plan. To sit on the dock and be spooned by you under the stars.

Remember when we were young? Aren't we still?

I love you.

I love you madly.

I want to see again how the lake was the perfect backdrop to beautiful brides and handsome grooms. There was so much to do. Somehow, we knew that the frantic pace was keeping us from thinking about missing them. Yes, we knew that our family was growing, but the house would feel so much emptier.

Those were happy tears, proud tears, weren't they?

How do we go on? Can we go back to just us? No, we go forward as us.

Love you.

Love you always.

I want to sit with you again, as we dangle and cuddle our grandbabies until they are too tired and sleepy. And to happily hand them back to their rightful owners. To hear those grandchildren shriek and play on the beach again. To watch with you when more sandcastles are built and abandoned. To hand out loads more water wings, listen to splashing giggling and laughter. To supervise more swimming lessons, judge more cannon balls and swan dives. To not be afraid of their mad competitions with inner tubes, canoes and waterskies.

Time seems pass so much faster.

I want to hold your hand while we linger on the beach, listening and joining in long late-night talks. Smiling and enjoining the excitement of their lives, their successes. And to once again, try to refrain from offering help, giving advice. To listen between the lines again.

We turned out okay. Thank you.

I want to walk back to the house with you, while we hear the tree frogs and cicadas. Hand in hand, sharing our private smile. And to feel your warmth, your strength and love as we spoon before falling asleep.

They turned out okay, didn't they? Yes, they did well for themselves.

Love you.

Love you forever.

My hand rests lightly on yours, fingers interlace. The black night embraces us. We breathe as one.

"Our best memories have been made here. I wish I could make more with you. I wish we could go back and relive each one, together." I sigh.

"This has always been our special place. Yours and mine, the children and grandchildren, yes. But mostly ours." I whisper and pause, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"We never let our other problems or worries get in the way up here. It was as if the house allowed us to be our perfect self.

Until ..." I shake my head.

"Remember when you asked me to trust you? I did. I have trusted you every day. Remember," I try to slow my breathing, try not to cry. "Remember when we promised that we'd be together forever? That we'd never leave each other?"

I pause again to breathe and blink away a tear. A strangled whimper escapes anyway.

"I admit, I've been angry with you for too long for breaking that one promise. I'm tired of being angry." I cry. "Please be with me again."

I have never left you, my love. I'm always with you. It's okay to be angry and sad. And it's okay to treasure and relive your memories. Know that what we had was beautiful. Not always perfect, but better than most.

Go ahead, now. Go forward. And remember that I'm forever tucked safely inside you.

***

Reluctantly, I wake and face the winter morning. I want to snuggle but know that the other side of the bed is cold. Wiping a tear from my cheek, I turn up the thermostat and let the shower warm up.

Parts of my dream are still with me. Like the sultry warmth of the summer evening and the light touch of his fingers holding mine. I can still smell the jasmine mingled with his unique scent. I can still hear the tree frog compete with the cicadas and the echo of his voice.

I'm forever tucked safely inside you.