Colors abound around me: rich crimsons, muted pale yellows, royal dark blues and washed grays. An elderly man sits alone on the cream colored sofa. I see an array of stratified wrinkles. They cover the cheek I once knew to be always a warm, pastel pink. They trace a lip I once knew to be long and quivering, coupled with an anticipating, yet welcoming happy gaze. The endearing purity, that childlike exhilaration and consequent sparkle, were a wonder to see. The wrinkles around them now mimicked those that used to decorate his face when he laughed.
His freedom was a breath of fresh air. It swept me off my feet and I could not help but breathe it, crave it. I held onto it like it was the last piece of chocolate I would ever eat in my lifetime. Now, his face was at peace. His calm and serenity were contagious. I felt my heart give a familiar beat: two fast, one slow. That was the rhythm I encountered seventy years ago.
His hair had receded; it was as white as shadowed porcelain. Suddenly, his face turned towards me, quitting its reverie. He held a quizzical expression and, although he did not yet move from his seat, I knew that he soon realized who I was. He studied me just the same, drinking in all the information he could possibly gather, still taken aback. I cautiously came closer; I knelt before him.
I momentarily lifted my hand and let out a smile. It felt more of a sigh, half from happiness, half from awe. Without further thought, I bravely lifted my left hand in answer to his waiting face, asked: “May I?” Upon a second’s ponder, he gave a slight, yet prominent nod of his head. I brought my hand closer, and placed it on his right cheek. He closed his eyes and let his head fall into it, my palm serving as a buttress to his cheek. I released a more excited smile and instantaneously felt trickles of salt fall down my weathered rosy cheeks. His response mirrored mine; he smiled a full smile against my wrist.
His eyes were now closed. Upon opening his eyes, he anticipated what I might do next: I uttered, “May I kiss you?”. He smiled deeper this time, his wrinkles even more pronounced. I touched my lips to his. It was as chaste, as lovely and full of promise as our first and last.
In the fierce hug we embraced, my head once more against his chest, my frame covered with the wonderful arms that I have missed so much, I felt our breaths dwindle away into the rest of forever.
So, I kept my promise. I found life in this man’s arms, and I died in his arms.
His freedom was a breath of fresh air. It swept me off my feet and I could not help but breathe it, crave it. I held onto it like it was the last piece of chocolate I would ever eat in my lifetime. Now, his face was at peace. His calm and serenity were contagious. I felt my heart give a familiar beat: two fast, one slow. That was the rhythm I encountered seventy years ago.
His hair had receded; it was as white as shadowed porcelain. Suddenly, his face turned towards me, quitting its reverie. He held a quizzical expression and, although he did not yet move from his seat, I knew that he soon realized who I was. He studied me just the same, drinking in all the information he could possibly gather, still taken aback. I cautiously came closer; I knelt before him.
I momentarily lifted my hand and let out a smile. It felt more of a sigh, half from happiness, half from awe. Without further thought, I bravely lifted my left hand in answer to his waiting face, asked: “May I?” Upon a second’s ponder, he gave a slight, yet prominent nod of his head. I brought my hand closer, and placed it on his right cheek. He closed his eyes and let his head fall into it, my palm serving as a buttress to his cheek. I released a more excited smile and instantaneously felt trickles of salt fall down my weathered rosy cheeks. His response mirrored mine; he smiled a full smile against my wrist.
His eyes were now closed. Upon opening his eyes, he anticipated what I might do next: I uttered, “May I kiss you?”. He smiled deeper this time, his wrinkles even more pronounced. I touched my lips to his. It was as chaste, as lovely and full of promise as our first and last.
In the fierce hug we embraced, my head once more against his chest, my frame covered with the wonderful arms that I have missed so much, I felt our breaths dwindle away into the rest of forever.
So, I kept my promise. I found life in this man’s arms, and I died in his arms.
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