The sun and warmth of this fall on the coast have made me nostalgic.
I’m taken back…. to a time long ago when I was eighteen and on a first date with a boy who was gasp five years older than me.
One warm Sunday afternoon, he picked me up in his mother’s car, a white sedan with a burgundy interior. The day before, he had told me,
“Wear something you don’t mind getting wet.” he smiled as he lazily leaned against the counter of the “Pic-a-dilly Malt and Donut Shop” where I worked for the summer.
After hours of sorting through my closet the next day, I finally wore jean shorts and a tee shirt over a tank top. The tee shirt was grey.
And off we drove to the river. Where we floated and talked and enjoyed the silence and the sun.
There was only one inner tube, so we had to sit close.
The water was shallow and slow, and the afternoon was filled with hope and promise.
In three weeks, I was leaving home for university. I was nervous and excited to be off on my own and have the entire world open before me.
The future seemed filled with all sorts of possibilities and promises.
I wonder how I can capture this same feeling decades later, when the year is coming to its end when it seems that I must “return” rather than “go forward.”.
But,
I guess,
if I look closely enough, what lies ahead are promises of another kind.
Ink And Spine 