ephemeral thought. If all I want is to go back, then why am I still moving forward?
Why keep going in the direction in which the memories stop making you smile. Go back. Take me there.
Take me to skies laced with clouds, soaring high on a mountain's breeze. Or further back to a lonely day on Hallows Eve where we climbed towers in Berching and drank wine by candle light as it snowed so we might make new footprints.
Or back even more, to a time when so much was uncertain that it seemed set in stone. To days when the only thing that we knew was that everything would eventually change. And it did.
I miss that feeling I had when we slammed the doors on the jeep and drove south with a car full of life, and I cried because right there was the end of something. Because it was real.
And what is real anymore. Because some days are so numb.
I miss sitting on the bench looking out over the river valley. Ell's bench with a pocket full of sad-song-cds, a pen and a piece of paper. Writing of one, but thinking of the other.
So many. ephemeral. moments I can never take back, never get back. I used to hold my breath for a new day to come, and when I realised time passes slower when you hold your breath I tried my hardest to never let it out.
I don't always see future, past doesn't always remember me.
"And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make." [the beatles]
We'll see about that.