Missing you

To the reader:  you know how you have those days when the fear of never coming up with another story or poem strikes like lightning sending shivers throughout the body and your brain saying “why bother any longer you’ll never make it”  well today was one of those days and nothing I did could shake the feeling until late, late, late in the evening when the following came out of somewhere.  I hope you enjoy.


 

You are gone now back home to the smog, the Santa Ana Winds, Sig-alerts, hot sandy beaches, and palm trees that are Southern California.  Your stay was far too short the last time we embraced was 20 years ago, wow 20 years and if not for that early morning break in February I would not have spotted the lone bald eagle in the park, I would have never tracked you down.

I will cherish the past two weeks, the sights and sounds we shared spending an entire day absorbing the transient characters of Portland’s living room Pioneer Square, journeyed the walkway along the Willamette River, we laughed and pondered the Columbia Gorge at Crown Point your long strawberry blonde hair whipped about by strong winds.  We spent the evening catching-up and tasting Portland at the Alder Pod of food trucks I chose fish and chips and you had the veggie bowl topped with a garlic sauce so addicting you went for seconds.

Nature was uncooperative on your last day in the Pacific Northwest it rained on and off muddying everything but then your experience would not be complete without this it would be like going to California for the hot, sunning weather and not reaping the benefit. Fortunately, at the right time the evening deluge stopped, clouds parting long enough for a walk up the Overlook in East Vancouver to watch the sunset.  There with the Columbia River and Portland spread out before us I began a Lewis and Clark history lesson when you stopped me fixing your eyes on mine we kissed long, deep, and passionate.

The day after you left I hiked up to Overlook the skies clear sun shinning bright  a satisfying warmth traveled head to toe like a shot of Drambuie and there at the top felt your spirit and smiled then looking down there on the muddy sidewalk an impression.  I recognized the ribbing, your shoe, your footprint.  A  framed picture of it now sits next to you on my computer desk waiting for the next.

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6 thoughts on “Missing you

    1. Do you have those days, in the creative process, when you just stare at swaying trees or contrails in the sky and nothing comes forth? You sense words but the dam is built well. That is me of late although snippets fill the page I keep ramming that and soon will break out.

      1. Honestly, I’m just happy staring at the swaying trees and sky, just being…..
        No worries, the words will come when they’re ready. Your writing is always so deep, I’m guessing, not easily reached. That was simply my way of checking on you. Have a great week!

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