I can feel the evening sun, warm on my face, but the chill of the wind coaxes me to pull my coat tighter around me.  I’m thankful for the forethought to wear a scarf.  7 years spent in this state hasn’t acclimated me to the rapid chill of fall.  I resonate with the cold.  It’s a force that comes in with the ability to reap the warmth from everything it touches.  It shoves you into places dimly lit, seeking warmth.  We will innately seek heat when our bodies are cooled.  Like others run to coffee shops and bookstores seeking solace in warmth and quiet, I find myself drawn to the rushing of wind, and angry clashing of waves against intricately placed stone.  It is a pity in this chilly weather to see all of the parks emptier, others no longer drawn to the water that lines our city, or the sun-drenched lakes filled with all of our floating things.  They have all crawled indoors, chatting about the things in life that rob us of our time.  While I may enjoy the light, zealous energy that the summertime brings, I rest deeper in the darkness of the cooler months.

Lost in my thoughts, I realize.  The wind gusts at me again and I remember where I am,  I come to this beach often, and i enjoy it much more when it is as empty as this. 

I brought you here before.  We watched the sun fall into a cloudy horizon.  I remember the feeling i had when sitting so close with you in silence, because we don’t always need words to speak to eachother.  The words we do share are heavy, the kind of weight that fills you.  A weight that you want to carry because you know that you are carrying something that is important for your journey.  I know that when I ask “How are you?” you won’t just tell me that you’re okay.

I’m wandering again.  I look over at you and smile, so happy that you’re here with me again.  You haven’t said a word.  I can only imagine that your mind is taking you over as well.  You’re staring at the water. It’s rough out there today, even the sailboaters have docked for the season.  You must have felt my glare because you turned to look at me and offered the same smile that I’m wearing.  Your hand tightens around mine and you breathe deeply and you turn your gaze back to the ocean.

I wonder what has your gears turning.  Maybe you’re thinking about how long you will stay.  How long you’ll let me hold you, right here.  Deciding that you’d like to wake up to the same smells tomorrow.  Last time I felt this, I knew I would burn long after you left but I didn’t care. Its hard to feel anything but each moment, like waves over me, next to you.

You moved my hand close to your chest, I pull closer to you because it is getting colder out here.  Your arm englufs me and I bury my face in your neck.

I can still smell you in my dream.


The featured image accompanying this piece, entitled ‘Stone and Star’, has been used with the permission of artist, Margaret Orr.

Margaret Orr lives in Cape Town, and believes in regular art practice to keep her sane, and to allow her a playful escape from her day job as executive coach.
Her medium of choice is collage, both traditional and digital.
Her work is available online at

Debi Crouson

Animal nurse by day, dreamer by night, nurturer every second. I share my words so that I may remain sane, and so that someone in the world may be enriched by them.

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