We often speak of time standing still. We speak of seismic moments; moments which never fail to immobilise us in our thoughts and prayers for another exquisite encounter. We speak of our dreams, hopes and joys – near and afar – as if destined to live out our forever in the numbered days.
It’s hard to forget that we have not seen each other, nor spoken, in a while. It’s harder to forget when everything reminds me of you.
I lace up my boots and pick up my camera. The lights are fading now, their dying embers painting the sky crimson, taunting me with memories of our first sunset and our first heart-to-heart.
It’s hard to forget you when you have given me a taste for life; when you opened my eyes to the world and filled it with luscious hues of depth and meaning. It’s hard to reach that depth with anyone else, without remembering how it all felt with you.
I venture forth to the eyrie on my own, 6,000 feet above the trials and tribulations of a life left behind. In that rare moment of quietude I am surrounded by your face, your smile and your voice once again.
It’s hard to forget your calming ways, a perennially soothing presence against an oftentimes cold and unforgiving landscape.
With each step now, I find myself head over heels drawn to you. Drawn to your soft breath and warm embrace. Drawn to everything that you are, and everything that you make me feel.