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The distant memory

November 23, 2007

Warm layers of lovely sheets, blankets and body heat. The sun peaks around the horizon and I ignore its bright beckoning. The dog can wait. I can choose to stay in bed. I stay and stay until it is almost lunch The dog barks unable to hold it one second longer. In my pj’s I get out of bed and go into the yard. The warm sun on my face and shoulders and feeling a little damp from the nights ocean air. I walk up my long stairs and fall back into bed laying my head down on the cool pillow laying next to my warm love. It is lunch and I have slept through an entire mealtime because I can. Because I do not have to work. The cats are anxious for their breakfast and don’t appreciate brunch. Leisurely drinking my coffee, changing into my suit and plans for the pond. Rolling down the driveway, crunching oyster shells beneath our wheels we pull out and onto the highway with pine and ocean in our hair. The woods are quiet with muffled shuffles of leaves, snap of branch and forest inhabitants sending warning calls to stay away. To be more quiet. To be more reverent of the noon day sun. We throw our floats onto the pond and find our bag of local cherries and the pot and paddle out. Water bugs swim around us as dragonflys land on our legs having dragon fly sex. The lillies smell like cheap suntan lotion and are creamy pink white and fuchsia with yellow centers. Fat wide green leaves float on the surface cradling  a nursery of frogs eggs. We drift around and we can hear the traffic of the summer filter through the trees but stronger we can hear the leaves and branches sway in rhythm to the wind always like a sluice across the Cape. Hunger and pruney limbs force us home and we make dinner and shower and take a disco nap. The stars are  out and we are sparkly, young and thin. Rested. We appear rested and unwrinkled and tan. No worries of money. No worries of health. No worries that keep us awake. No one keeping us from doing any single thing we want to do.

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