Too Long (but not really)...

I embrace her and try to focus; her scent is too strong. Pungent, sweet and earthy is the ancient wood from the Black Forest. When I draw the bow across the strings, the vibration flows from her body to mine, concentrating on my breast and just inside my knees. I wiggle towards the edge of the wooden chair and try again to focus on the music. The lion roars.


The light is dim, but not too dim; I can see if I want to. My head wants to do one thing and my heart another. It is natural until I look or think too much. I know it but it looks weird on the page. I waited too long, but not really. I thought of her often, maybe every day. I wanted to hold her close and have that long awaited reunion, but it was always there trying to make me stop. I hated it.

I made excuses and lied to myself. I dreamed of those times when nothing ever got in the way, and then the dreams did what dreams always do. Was that really me?

I ran away from the Bach Cello Suites. Sometimes I put the CD in the player in the car and quickly hit the next button, never hearing beyond the first measure. I refuse to look at what we played.

I found a folder of music today that had familiar handwritten notes penciled in. I remembered the logic, but forgot the reason. When I played, I remembered us playing so many times that we never believed it might not be.

I played until the breath of the memory brought life to the girl, the woman who never knew anything else.

Our essence lingers in fragments on the page. I struggle with the same notes and play the others so well. I quit and rejoin the orchestra every day, remembering faces I want to forget.

My favorite music was composed in the 17th Century, where I should be.
Tomorrow I will embrace her again, where no one will notice and the lion smiles.

Photo Courtesy of http://www.graphicsfairy.blogspot.com/