High You Are

Walking in the woods listening to What So Not’s, “High You Are,” makes me hope you will come for me. “Take me now so I can wake up and drift away. And I don’t care how high you are, don’t wake me ’til we arrive” (Hyde, Styles-Richards, Emerson, Streten). Arrive who knows where. The only thing that matters is we’re together.

Walking in the Rain

Rain on Silos

Dear J:

The walk was wet, with a steady Washington-like drizzle overhead. In my mind I tried counting cracks in the sidewalks beneath my feet, recalling old song lyrics I’d heard decades ago, while reciting all of the ingredients I could remember for pecan pie, but in my heart all I could do was imagine you and the way your blonde hair tumbles off your shoulders in the late afternoons.

I thought of your slender body, your willowy fingers, your intense eyes and your unforgettable smile, and I felt very far away from where I really want to be, which, as you know, is close beside you.

Try as I might, I couldn’t stop replaying looped images of all the precious moments I must be missing living separately from you. I love you more than you will ever know, my dearest. It is hard remaining here without you at hand.

Yours, C