Sunlight streamed through the window on that lazy Sunday morning, bathing our bedroom in a warm, hazy glow. I stretched and yawned, not wanting to leave my soft pillow or silky sheets. As if on cue, his arms wrapped around me. He pulled me tighter against his chest and I curled up next to him. The feel of his skin against mine, the smell of him… it relaxed me. It gave me peace. He nuzzled against my neck and I felt the scratchy stubble of his chin. His hair was a mess yet he was still so handsome. We laid there, a tangle of arms and legs, talking and laughing. I listened to his heart beat through his chest as I felt his warm breath on my ear. His green eyes danced with light and mischief as he gave me playful kisses. In that moment, I thought that I could stay in that place forever.
I looked up at the cloudy sky from my place on the patchwork quilt. It was humid for spring, which usually meant a rain shower was coming. We had ignored that warning, deciding instead to enjoy the lush green trees and warm air. Even through the blanket, I could tell that the grass was soft and thick. It would soon be grass-cutting season. I looked at our spread, the basket and wine glasses and food and wondered if I should start to pack it up. And that’s when I felt it. One drop and then another. And then there was that unmistakable smell of fresh rain, that eternal symbol of spring, wet and earthy. We looked at each other, silently communicating in that way that we always did. A clap of thunder startled me and suddenly we were in the middle of a downpour. I cringed instinctively, looking at the ruined picnic in front of me. Suddenly I was being swooped off the ground. He cradled me in his arms and spun me around, laughing. I shrieked – partly out of surprise and partly out of elation. We were getting thoroughly soaked. I could feel his wet shirt against my face. He had water dripping from his hair and from his nose. He tightened his grip and spun me again. He threw his head back and laughed like a man possessed. I saw a blur of trees and gray sky and rain and green eyes. In that moment, I thought that I could stay in that place forever.
On a sunny, crisp fall afternoon, we found ourselves in a ballroom surrounded by family and friends. Tables draped in white, floral arrangements full of star-gazer lilies, and my friends in deep green dresses. My dress was white and it was beautiful. God, I felt like a princess that day. We stood in the middle of the ballroom and locked eyes. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. I can still remember the feel of his starched white tuxedo shirt. He had taken off his jacket and it was draped over the back of a chair somewhere. His scent enveloped me – part cologne, part soap and part skin that was just him – and relaxed my entire body. The lights dimmed, a song began to play and we danced. In his arms, I felt warmth and love and stability. I thought my heart would burst with emotion. I noticed a glint on his cheeks. I gently lifted a gloved hand and wiped away happy tears from his face. He put his forehead to mine. Our photographer got a great shot of this moment and he later told me that he felt like he was intruding on a highly private moment. I don’t even remember him taking the photo. As far as I was concerned, there were only two people in that room. In that moment, I thought that I could stay in that place forever.
Forever turned out to be a very short time. Far too short. Even though he has been gone for a while, my memories are still vivid. Sometimes I close my eyes and let the images come flooding back and its almost like he’s still here. Except he’s not. And he won’t ever be.
So if I could travel through space and time, I would go to a place that transcends geographical location. I would go to the place where I always felt warm, happy, loved, safe and secure. His arms.
Day two prompt: If you could zoom through space at the speed of light, what place would you go to right now? Twist: Organize your post around the description of a setting.