In flow memories

Holding my face near the fire stove until it was flushed and full of it's heat. Cooling my hot cheeks against the cold comforting glass of the front sliding glass door, daydreaming of whimsical adventures to be had in the winter weather outside. Stepping out into that icy weather, warm and bundled up. Breathing in those first few lung fulls of harsh burning cold air. Running through the breezeway, letting loose the layers of warmth a piece at a time, embracing the chill. The thrill of imagination, fantasy, my destiny coursing through my veins like a powerful drug. Feeling strong, beautiful, alone, elusive. Dangling my legs over the concrete ledge staring into the frost bitten trees, waiting for a moment's decision, a perilous mission, an ultimate purpose to overcome me. Only then do I remember ever feeling truly content. Living in waking dreams. Reality was so different. So crisp. Time was slower. Love lingered in everything. Now it seems dulled and blurred, disconnected.


I miss it more than I can say.