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Longing
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Longing My hands felt wet, just for a second, a slight moisture on the palms. Then my upper lips joined in with dew. Gazing out the train window to the passing platform at the sparse crown the lightest of rain made its' presence known. For a second I looked at my hands to check for a shake but found none, licked my lips and looked out again to see if I recognized anyone. Nothing yet as the car jerked to a stop. Peering from one visible end to other all I could see was workers and old folks with a smattering of students. Just in case I stepped into the bathroom to check my face and wash my hands. “This was happening, you sought it, chased it, perused it, and finally traveled hundreds of miles on a passionate possibility; don't fuck this up.” My mind was disquieted now that the time has arrived. “Manage your expectations,“ I run through my head..... Grabbing my overnight bag and descending the straight the passengers were still filing out the car door so I stood craning out the opening. Rain wet my head as I finally stepped out on the platform, still the one I was expecting was not yet seen. Pulling my bag over my shoulder I moved to clear the door and turned slowly counter clockwise to no avail. People were greeting each other all around me, couples and friends, with a quiet efficiency or warm joy. I stood alone amid the crowd. No missed calls or texts on my phone so I repeated clockwise another turn. Nothing yet. A heavier rain rain down my head and face as the last passenger walked past me to an opened armed young man. They hugged tightly as scurried for cover. My feet seemed cemented in place as I looked around now with more effort, twisting both my shoulders and neck as my inner voice said, “She'll be here just be patient.” This trip has two purposes, photograph the lake and meet the lovely<b> redhead. </font></b>While I always have time for photo-ops and plan them in advance the<b> redhead </font></b>just popped up on social media about a week a go. A few phone calls and many emails, some heavy, and she piqued my interest. Plus she offer to drive me around and let me stay at her place solidified things for me. She was lovely and quirky with an artistic streak. Her eyes have a burning passion to them; lips that remind me of a warm fire on a cool night. Listen to me I chuckle to myself, falling into it yet again. Almost forgetting about the geese on the lake, that thing that made you get on the train, the ambient light that nature gives forth in a early hours of the morning. And this is true: Women, always something so damn special about each and every one: a look, a smile, the way one wears her hair or how one carries themselves. Some with their hidden secret smiles or a curve the catches the eye. Each one sparks that subtle curiosity, at times the blind urge to fall into a deep lust. A curious wonder how her hair will smell, how her lips will taste, how she will look in the morning light. Then reality hits and we both realize that it was all just a passing fancy or lonely, curious escape. In the end it always seems to end in some awkward point and all that is left is feeling of opportunity lost. But we all keep trying like madmen. “I both fear and love the rain.....” I once told a women, “Kisses that are remembered for a lifetime happen in the rain, but everything that I ever gave a shit about came to some sort of end in the rain.” Another scan of the emptying platform and check of my phone netted nothing. My heart stopped fluttering and my nerves cease their unease. My head went quiet as I began thinking of hotels I can stay at my estimated costs of taxis. The inner voice in my head said to walk to the taxi stand, head east to the lake as there was a cheap hotel with a few diners within walking distance. The lake was an quick walk from the room. And the room was cheap. The redhead, like most things, was sinking down the recesses of my mind. Photos are one of my biggest passions, getting blown off isn't. A hand touched my elbow. A looked into emerald green eyes set in porcelain skin surrounded by raven red. Without a word I leaned in to end the wonder if her kisses did taste like strawberry's..... |
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