mercredi, janvier 18, 2012
One weekend with you -- and what happened afterwards.
Life in a temperate clime had caused her to adjust her expectations.
She did not burn. But neither did she shiver.
A denizen of a state where the weather is both more seductive and dangerous, he was more volatile.
It gave him an energy, a pulse, a passion and drive that radiated through the cold letters on the screen, and made them glitter.
In response, she glimmered back.
Like the lighting in the night sky, energy crackled between them.
The times when it grounded, sending branches crashing to the rich, loamy earth, were part of the atmospherics that drew them together.
Distance. Money. Children -- the realities of every day life. Anything further was impossible.
Surely, though, two such oddly kindred spirits, met happenstance, could allow themselves one night?
She prides herself on her reason, stability, common sense.
She'd never done anything remotely like this. But she'd never come to know anybody remotely like him.
They had so much to teach each other.
And if lessons are learned in a weekend seminar, who is to say that they aren't worth remembering?
Afterwards, they told each other, that among the travails, and joy, and missed opportunities, and nightmares that sometimes haunt the middle-aged, they would continue to be friends.
Friends in good times and challenging ones.
And so they are.
Only sometimes, when she is alone, she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror.
And smiles, remembering when she was less than sensible.
Fact? Or fiction? Only two of us know -- and we aren't telling.