emptyharbour

Visiting the remains of our childhood, our family, our house and our home. Slinking sense of regret, though only in a way we can both smile at. Things worked out, didn't they? I chase you, laughing, around ancient cedars and the stunted pine. This is what it felt like, to be alive, then. What it feels like, to be alive, now. I am glad for the company, glad to know you feel just the same. This potluck romance. The very best kind. Share a bottle of wine but only one glass, all we could find and all we needed. Lipstick smears the rim and eventually, both our faces. This is what I would remember, what I would tell others, what I would hold close.