Wistfulness...

It just takes a hello to make me beam and release the images kept tucked away in my mind. Away in a place where my memories remain untouched by the years of gobblety gook that fades and blurs and melds the moments less treasured. Crisp, clear snapshots flash in my minds eye. Reminiscences that I grab hold of and pull around me like an elaborate worn patch work quilt and wrap myself in their velvety silkiness, using the corner to caress my cheek. I indulge myself and pour over each square and retell the story that goes with it. Each patch stitched with a vivid memory and quilted with nostalgia. I curl into the familiar fabric and the feelings of being safe and comfortable come easy. My eyes become teary and my throat gets knotted with the thought of how I was adored. In the rest of my life I have never felt as adored as I had then and I yearn for it now. Has anyone been as lucky as I? To have had that one person in your life that adored you more than any other, that person that you adored in kind? Where there wasn't a terrible ending, no sense of loss? No resentment, no spoils, just a natural progression of choices made and life lived? And as I am surrounded by all these precious moments, I long from time to time for a chance to add a patch to my dreamy, wistful blanket.

If you ever read this, you will know it is the moments I've spent with you that I have woven into this fanciful fabric.