I see you for the first time through a window. I peer in from the street. You talk to strangers while you wait for me. You see me and smile. Next, a loose hug. We order food. You ask me about pomegranates. You talk about Australia. You pronounce it funny. We move outdoors. It’s February….
Tattooing of Memories
On a recent unusually warm fall day we took a walk on a quiet beach. He reached for my hand and then stood still for a moment with his feet in the sand. I looked over at him, my hand in his, my arms bare thanks to fantastically unseasonable New England temperatures, and took stock…