For this author, creative endeavors have been sorely tested by motherhood. But also transformed, and in ways she wouldn’t have imagined – couldn’t have, without her life “rewritten” as it has been, by her children. So linger here, to read all things weaverly, writerly and motherly.

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Thursday, April 12, 2012

K is for that Kiss....

He had her up against a tree. Although her backside was warm – maybe it was a stone that still retained the heat of day. Just past dusk, there was a crimson light, wavering, reflected off water maybe....


Didn't matter, the where exactly. Her dreams had become like that, less about place than about sensations in a moment. Although more usually, moments of bone cold fear.




And in her dreams, usually she was alone, wandering barefoot in snow, in a moonless dark. But not in this dream moment – this one of a heated first kiss. The first brush of the lips, the shy then more fierce probing of tongues....A kiss arising out of an attraction so deep, you believe whole heartedly that you are in love, even if later you may realize you aren't.


The funny thing about most of her dreams, was that she was thankful when she finally woke up, just as panic would be seizing her, as she knew she was really lost.

From this dream, she did not want to wake up. But she woke to a youthful heat that was entirely real. Undreamt. Her ailing body actually felt invigorated.
She tried to go back to sleep, to the kiss. But she was awake and in the moment as she didn't like to be; even with the most mundane tasks of trying to open a bottle of juice, her hands too arthritic.

She reached for her maximum strength arthritis Tylenol tablets.
She lay still, waiting for the pills to take effect as she would every morning, before she would attempt the long ordeal of getting up and dressed. In the dream she'd actually felt warm. That warmth of the heated kiss, but also of young skin flushed from a day in the sun. Not this bone deep cold she'd grown more used to. At 93, she was always cold.

She pulled herself back down under her blankets. She closed her eyes, wishing for sleep, to be pulled back down into her warm dream. To play out fully, that youthful first kiss.



18 comments:

Sharon Greenthal said...

How beautiful, evocative and true. In our dreams we can be anywhere, any time, any age...dreams are truly the magic of the mind at work, whether good or terrifying.

Lucy Adams said...

Lovely post. I like that you delayed letting the reader know that this was a dream.

Lucy

Misha Gericke said...

Beautiful piece of writing. Somewhat bittersweet too.

Abracadebra Designs said...

Absolutely beautiful post and so descriptive. No matter what are age is, we will always have our memories and our dreams.
-Debbie

Paula Martin said...

Sweet memory, love it!

danneromero said...

ah, great that it is a 93 year old feeling this, dreaming this... romance never ends, does it?

great descriptions, sandra

Amy Morgan said...

Nice imagery and I liked how I didn't know it was a 93 year old until later.

Mike said...

And your Mother is 93. Is this her dream?

The Golden Eagle said...

And this is one great exception to the rule that you should never write dream scenes. :)

DeniseCovey_L_Aussie said...

This is beautiful. Such atmospheric writing. Ah, memories...

Thank you for finding my blog. I'm a new follower of yours and will be looking forward to reading more stories.

Denise

Bish Denham said...

Nice, very nice.

pbquig said...

Now, I see why BlogHer made you a celebrity. Very nice.
Pam

beachlover said...

Nice story. I've tried that too...unfortunately wake up from the best part of the dream to come, then try as hard as I can to fall back to sleep and pick up the dream where I left off...never works. Lovely, that a 93 year old woman still thinks of her first kiss. A passionate woman indeed.

Susan ~ Today's Working Woman said...

I think I've had that dream! Thanks for sharing! I need to go back to sleep now!

Lynn Proctor said...

we of a certain age can all relate to this wonderful post

Glynis said...

A beautiful image portrayed in this piece. Lovely.

brenda said...

Wow! Strong write, evocative and full of imagery that fires up the imagination.

Yvonne said...

Dreams can be our nigthmares and our escapes. -Very provoking piece!

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