Journal entry

It’s been a dreary dark day full of rain and mist. The kind of day that conjures up memories. Daydreams as it were. A day that brings up all manner of regret and longing for what was once and no more. Spent as a flame that has been snuffed-out, and can no longer combust again no matter how hard one tries.

 

I recall to mind a long and lazy lunch al fresco, and a conversation that ran into the pomeriggio. We were in no hurry. Businesses and stores had closed for the afternoon, and the town, having filled it’s belly, was still asleep. We took a leisurely stroll along the promenade where gardens lined the landscape, and bicycles waited along the edge of  the sidewalk. Slowly,  we breathed-in the scented ocean and listened to the nothingness that surrounded us.

The Tyrrhenian sea was a sheet of glass, and the white sand, covered with rows of umbrellas and chairs, was like it’s own little ghost-town, void of voices.  

We moved through the ether as in a dream.

Waiting for the shudder that would awaken us both.

A shudder that came too soon.

On these days, I miss those days most.

.