white dress
Floating on the cusp of Autumn, I glide along the river-walk way in the dress you got me, but I never wore. I’ve felt sentimental recently and have looked at it hanging limply in my closet as it stares back at me for what feels like years, and so finally, I decide to slide it up my figure. I analyze the way it hugs my hips and gives me an appearance of a boho angel. It feels like it suits this end-of-summer moment, with my golden hair messy around my face and big lashes adorning the green windows into my soul. So, as I stroll the green and blue landscape that evening, I imagine myself as a lone, white butterfly fluttering by.
I’m thinking of you, surely, but when am I not? As I look out at the rippling water and see the blur of the cars as they pass by, I wonder what you’re doing. How you might look in that moment. Whether or not you’re looking at the same glimpse of sunset that’s left in the sky. A tiny sliver of pink in a forest of blue clouds. And as each person passes by, I try to catch a glimpse of their helmeted head or examine the color of their bicycle and always let out a sigh of discontent but also of solace; for then I don’t have to look into the eyes of the person I once thought was part of my own soul.
And suddenly, as I’m nearing the end of the path and the golden sunset has turned into a deep blue around me, I see a silhouette of someone ahead. And before I can even observe their identity, they begin waving and hop off their green horse. And, it’s you.
My mouth goes dry and my body moves in apprehension, yet I can’t hide the smile on my face or the gleam of joy in my eyes. ‘It’s you,” I say. You smile and say you saw my car and wondered when you’d run into me. You ask if we can sit down, if you can hug me, if we can talk. I say yes, yes, yes. Because how could I ever turn you down?
We clumsily move, sneaking glances at each other as to not be too obvious. But, oh how I missed your wonderful face.
As we talk about nothing and everything, the evening shifts into night, and things become just as they once were. Because have you ever thought about how connected to the night we are? The moon and the stars were what always defined our moments and memories, because we recognized ourselves in them, shining ever so brightly. The thoughts of us that have seeped into the crevices of my mind are filled with crickets chirping and constellations above. Shooting stars are what I wished for our future upon, and the blue of your face is the image kept of you deep within my dreams.
I think the cover of nightfall brings comfort to us somehow. There’s a safety in being unseen, in allowing for the lines of someone’s face to blur together as the lapping of the shore lulls my body into your arms. And somehow, I suddenly find myself as one with you again. As we embrace and react to the others' touch, but no one admits their true longing out loud. But it’s unneeded because it feels just as it should be momentarily.
And like magic, the white dress that I’ve never worn is now being worn for you, just as it should have been. And as we gaze out into the same thundering clouds far away, I know we’re looking out at the same sky. For once, in that moment, I don’t have to wonder.