A QUIET MOMENT OF INTIMACY

I slept late this morning. Perhaps some of the after affects of getting my flu shot the day before. Walking sleepily from the bedroom to my kitchen, I made my usual pot of organic coffee. Pouring my first cup, I was lured outside to the garden where I could be with the sounds and sights of nature. Because I awoke later than usual, the sun was already warming my usual sitting area, which seemed uncomfortably hot. So, I moved over to the shaded gazebo. David's ashes sat in the sundial just beyond the arch of the gazebo. It had been five months since my husband past. There I was, sitting near him, like old times sharing our morning coffee together. As I soaked up the late morning air, I felt drawn to move to the sunken garden below. Here, laid the pond that David built. As my bare feet touched the stone walkway leading in that direction, I could feel the warmth of the sun penetrating into my feet and toes. I stood at the top of the stairs that led down to the pond, gazing for a moment over the fruit of David's labor. What a beautiful gift he had left me with in his work. The pond was David's creation and we enjoyed many mornings and evenings there. It was a very intimate space in the yard. I stepped slowly down one step at a time, until reaching the moist grass below. Still wet from the morning sprayers, it felt cool and damp on my toes. My heart sang a little as I experienced the temperature difference between the upper and lower levels of the garden. I sat down in the chair in the West corner, which was shaded by the stone wall and the trees. Sitting, I tucked one foot under me, while the other foot dangled in the cool grass below. A magazine lay opened across my lap and I became engrossed in an article I was reading. Occasionally, I looked up, gazing at the cascading water falling over the rocks and into the pool below. The air felt ten degrees cooler, leaving me deliciously comfortable for this time of the day. Deeply engrossed in my reading, I sat quietly, reflecting on my own thoughts. All was still here except the sound of bubbling water and the sweet songs of the birds filling the air. The shade from the tree I sat under felt good. I must have read for at least an hour before I felt something change in the air. By now, I was in a quiet meditative state, reflecting on life and pondering over the article in front of me. The air began to move differently. My nostrils flared in high awareness of a familiar scent. It was triggering a memory of days gone by when I would sit by a stream or waterfall in Massachusetts. There I would smell the moistness in the air, combined with the scents of moss, stone and dampness. The similar fragrance filled my being enough to distract me from my reading. I had sat by this pond many times before and never had the experience of what I was now smelling or feeling. I laid down the magazine, paying more attention to what nature was communicating with me. Again, the warm air seemed to move over the water, cooling it and lifting the scents of nature from the pond. It drifted over to me in a gentle breeze, kissing my skin in cool moist delight. For several minutes, each breeze washed over me, bathing my skin in cool essence of scents not typically found here in Arizona. I was enjoying the game nature was playing. She was distracting me! Just for a moment in time, gentle breezes kissed me, gentle breezes touched me, gentle breezes danced with me and filled my senses. I couldn't help but wonder if David wasn't dancing in the wind.