I'm writing to remember today. A part of me is afraid to remember but more afraid to forget. There is more at stake in losing the memory forever. It would mean forgetting joy, purity, peace, safety, warmth, security, innocence, young love.

So I choose to remember your skin on my skin. I choose to remember my skin looking for more of you and you for me. I choose to remember your strong, graceful, thoughtful arms around me. Chivalry and respect pulsed through you.

I choose to remember your breath. Your mouth over my brow. I choose to remember your laugh and what it feels like over my face. And staying in that pause and space where time doesn't exist but possibilities do - suspended and completely free.

This is where we are alive. And free. And pure. And who we really are.


Journal Archive: 4 July 2014

You remind me of a time when I was grateful for the air that gave of itself at every breath.
Complete  in surrender, in hope, in death, in delight, in potential.
You remind me of a time when it felt safe to be in the sun's light.
Safe to be warm, to be new, to be used, to be old.
You remind me of a time when water was savored.
Comfort in being refreshed, renewed, alive.
You remind me when my affections were welcome.
Appreciation and love and joy were familiar possibilities.

What's  important is I remembered.

Journal Archive: 31 December 2013