Suo Loco
The water was high today, and he had to walk a ways down the creek before crossing on a fallen tree he had noticed last week. He thought about walking a little further to see if the kestrels he had heard earlier were revisiting their nest, but he didn't want to miss the chance for a shared sunset. It had been a mostly gray November and the need for dramatic beauty was strong.
He scrambled up the worn path to the house, slipping into the basement and pausing a moment to look at his pots drying on the rack. He squinted over at his wife's half of their shared workbench but couldn't figure out in the dark what she was working on. She would tell him tomorrow when they had time to be down here together, sharing the warmth of the kiln and each other.
He could hear her upstairs puttering around the kitchen and knew she had continued working on the dinner after he had left it to make his afternoon rounds of the creek. He could smell the bread baking and closed his eyes, happily remembering all the failed attempts while they experimented with recipes, looking for meals they could eat together.
With his eyes closed he could feel her presence and he was sure she knew he was here. He felt excitement, anticipating the happiness on her face when he told her about the kestrels. They could hike down that way tomorrow, and she could continue to teach him about the fall herbs she was collecting.
He continued up the stairs and, quietly coming into the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. He knew from the way she moved that she wasn't surprised. He breathed her scent deeply and she asked "What did you see today?".
He took her hand and led her into the living room, looking out the windows that stretched across the entire south face of the house. The sun was melting into the horizon, the lower edge spreading out and pooling like molten gold. Wisps of clouds slowly brightened, turned coppery, bringing the light blue sky into sharp contrast. The bare trees on the far side of the valley traced inky lines across the spreading red, and they stood together, arm in arm, feeling a part of it all, a part of each other.
He turned towards her, kissing her deeply, then leaned back from the waist and finally answered "I didn't see anything, but I heard some kestrels down the creek. Would you like to go there tomorrow? Maybe do some collecting?". She smiled at the thought of them hiking together, and pictured his face as it showed the joy he always felt when walking with her by their beloved creek.
The doorbell rang, and she turned to answer it. He slid into the kitchen and started getting the food ready. She knew he needed a little longer than she to get used to company, even with friends they had known for years.
The talk went on for hours, starting with dinner and progressing to a fire lit living room with everyone contemplating the stars through the windows. Their friends were an eclectic bunch, thoughtful and imaginative, and the topics ranged from spirituality to astronomy with some anthropology on the side. They shared a commitment to growth and discovery, and there was always something new to talk about. Slowly the friends said their goodbyes as tiredness and duty sent them on their way.
He was a little wired after the final goodbye and felt the same energy in her. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her in for a kiss, lingering and soft. He ran his hands along her rib cage and felt her press herself to him. She took his hand and they walked together to their bedroom. After all this time she still excited him beyond any measure. Their lovemaking was a symphony, sometimes slow and passionate, other times hard and demanding. They moved together with long familiarity, with a sense of each other that went well beyond words.
Spent, they molded together, looking out the skylight at the stars dimmed by the crescent moon. The pale light washed over them and she felt herself spread out, touch his warm presence behind her. She thinned further, visiting the places they had made love in their travels, the deserts and mountain forests and remote river valleys, felt the sparks of their friends and looked forward to visiting them again. She sensed the house around her, loving what they had created but knowing that home, the true home she had always looked for, was him, and with that she stroked his arm, gently kissed his hand, and fell asleep.
He scrambled up the worn path to the house, slipping into the basement and pausing a moment to look at his pots drying on the rack. He squinted over at his wife's half of their shared workbench but couldn't figure out in the dark what she was working on. She would tell him tomorrow when they had time to be down here together, sharing the warmth of the kiln and each other.
He could hear her upstairs puttering around the kitchen and knew she had continued working on the dinner after he had left it to make his afternoon rounds of the creek. He could smell the bread baking and closed his eyes, happily remembering all the failed attempts while they experimented with recipes, looking for meals they could eat together.
With his eyes closed he could feel her presence and he was sure she knew he was here. He felt excitement, anticipating the happiness on her face when he told her about the kestrels. They could hike down that way tomorrow, and she could continue to teach him about the fall herbs she was collecting.
He continued up the stairs and, quietly coming into the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. He knew from the way she moved that she wasn't surprised. He breathed her scent deeply and she asked "What did you see today?".
He took her hand and led her into the living room, looking out the windows that stretched across the entire south face of the house. The sun was melting into the horizon, the lower edge spreading out and pooling like molten gold. Wisps of clouds slowly brightened, turned coppery, bringing the light blue sky into sharp contrast. The bare trees on the far side of the valley traced inky lines across the spreading red, and they stood together, arm in arm, feeling a part of it all, a part of each other.
He turned towards her, kissing her deeply, then leaned back from the waist and finally answered "I didn't see anything, but I heard some kestrels down the creek. Would you like to go there tomorrow? Maybe do some collecting?". She smiled at the thought of them hiking together, and pictured his face as it showed the joy he always felt when walking with her by their beloved creek.
The doorbell rang, and she turned to answer it. He slid into the kitchen and started getting the food ready. She knew he needed a little longer than she to get used to company, even with friends they had known for years.
The talk went on for hours, starting with dinner and progressing to a fire lit living room with everyone contemplating the stars through the windows. Their friends were an eclectic bunch, thoughtful and imaginative, and the topics ranged from spirituality to astronomy with some anthropology on the side. They shared a commitment to growth and discovery, and there was always something new to talk about. Slowly the friends said their goodbyes as tiredness and duty sent them on their way.
He was a little wired after the final goodbye and felt the same energy in her. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her in for a kiss, lingering and soft. He ran his hands along her rib cage and felt her press herself to him. She took his hand and they walked together to their bedroom. After all this time she still excited him beyond any measure. Their lovemaking was a symphony, sometimes slow and passionate, other times hard and demanding. They moved together with long familiarity, with a sense of each other that went well beyond words.
Spent, they molded together, looking out the skylight at the stars dimmed by the crescent moon. The pale light washed over them and she felt herself spread out, touch his warm presence behind her. She thinned further, visiting the places they had made love in their travels, the deserts and mountain forests and remote river valleys, felt the sparks of their friends and looked forward to visiting them again. She sensed the house around her, loving what they had created but knowing that home, the true home she had always looked for, was him, and with that she stroked his arm, gently kissed his hand, and fell asleep.
1 Comments:
At 2:04 AM, Nicky said…
I know I just said this but - your writing is so beautiful. This post in particular was wonderful.
I am really enjoying reading this blog. Thanks!
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