731. a waking dream

Trev sat the desk before the bedroom window overlooking the stream that flowed from the meadows and past the cottage. He wore just his pajama bottoms, his back catching morning light, skin smooth, tight, porcelain. His hair tussled, thick with sleep and love and fingers. And in his right hand, a pen.

Em propped a pillow and leaned as a mermaid might from the sea, her sea of sheet and cloth, of cotton still warm of the two. Sensing her movements he spoke without turning, words soft as the dew outside the window. Most important, he said, was not the act or the moment but what came after. Like right now, in this quiet of dawn, of coffee to come and sleep to rub from wide eyes, of the tender kisses that kiss to kiss and no more, of hands that hold and trace the curves of smiles bright as the sun rising, of flesh that aches to be nowhere but in this moment. These moments, he continued as if talking to himself, are the ones we will remember, the ones that define all the comes before and after; and it is these moments, of stillness, of needing no words, just the sitting, and watching, where what is breathed is not air but life, where what is held is not each other, but a waking dream.

From the bed, Em pulled the sheets to her chin to catch the tears, of joy, of happiness, of an experience she could not define, that somehow eluded thought and boxes of this and that. He stopped talking and began to write and what was heard was not pen to parchment as much as the moment defined, of the space between the notes, of hearts in dance, souls in swim, of lips aching to touch, to reunite, to feel the pulse between the thin membranes, warm and wet. When they spoke next, it was afternoon.

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The night came and too dinner. Silent bowls of soup, mirror smooth of reflected faces trembling, as he looked upon her, as the first rays of light upon the day, giving rise to flowers and bees and a gentle wind to wake dewy eyes clear. From his cheek a single tear fell, then another from unblinking eyes and she took his hand in hers and for the longest time they sat, hands held, tears falling.