Candlelight cut the blackness of the bedroom at midnight.

He lay on his back looking up at her face as her dark hair fell and caressed his cheeks.

We could make such beautiful babies together, she said, and that was what she wanted, but it was not what he wanted.

Far later, apart, she married a bad man, her second bad husband, so she divorced him too. She turned to real estate and God.

He flew away to a Pacific island where he caught a seaplane even farther to a tropical spot. As the plane bumped the dock, he saw the mountain that looked like Krakatoa, and a lovely woman who stood there, dressed like a dream.

He did not know her then, but he married her later, and it worked out well, but he sometimes thought about that night when the candlelight cut the darkness, and the black hair of the other woman caressed his tear-streaked cheeks.

7 thoughts on “Memories”

  1. Tell me, is there a living soul who does not have the same memory or fantasy. Pleasant they were and shall forever be.


    1. Ray: The political stuff, any of the more down-to-earth material, is easier to respond to. People have their opinions. I think when I head off now and then into more “lofty” zones, people just don’t know what to say. There is no opinion involved. It’s okay. I understand that.

      Thanks for the kind words, yet again.


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