Bone - that loveable cad - used Groundhog’s Day as an excuse to plunder the memories of his adoring fans.
I loved his post and the responses it garnered. I hurridly placed a brief synopsis of my own answer. What day would I wish to relive over and over? I landed on this day with almost no thought. Below is a more indepth expression of that day. Hopefully, it is not too tainted with the bitterness that accompanied the end of our relationship:
You are lying next to me.
The sun streaming in the windows.
Your back pressed deep into the mattress.
Your chest rising with each quiet breath.
I am tracing patterns there.
Small circles, at first.
Then, intoxicated by the ring on my finger, placing my signature on your chest.
Mrs. Meghan Gentry.
Big, girly, curly cursive.
My fingertip a fountain pen.
Your chest, my parchment.
You slide on your side, facing me.
Eyelids fluttering ever so softly.
Still asleep, but more conscious.
Your lips softly parted.
Moist, warm air touching my cheek.
I know you are sleeping.
But I need to talk to you.
It is nothing you need hear, nor respond to.
Just feelings that I fear will drown me if I continue to hold them in.
The fluidness of them threatens to spill over my eyes.
“I don’t know what I would do without you. Finding you was finding myself. Spending the rest of my life with you could never be enough time.”
I’m whispering the words into the corner of your pillow.
I don’t want you to wake and hear me whispering to you.
It seems insipid.
But the need to tell you my feelings, even in your sleep, is too strong to ignore.
Your eyes open.
Why does that word from your lips make me feel safe.
As though you could hold me and cradle me.
Protecting me from anything outside of us.
You pull me into your chest.
I have the oddest imagery of the name I had written there, smearing as we touch.
You kiss me so gently, so deeply, that I can not breathe.
I feel as though I don’t need air.
We make love.
Each touch a caress.
Each stroke building a rhythm.
I can’t feel where you end and I begin.
How could you fill me, so?
When I never felt empty before?
We don’t leave my bedroom that day.
We are content just to be.
In this place.
Me beneath you.
You beneath me.
We are on our sides.
You are cradling me.
Your lips touch the curve of my ear.
You speak lowly to me.
Not whispering. Your voice is deeper, lower, it sends chills down my spine.
“I have an idea.”
I nod slightly.
I don’t want to break the spell your voice is casting.
“What do you say to getting Noah and John and spending the evening in the pool?”
You know I would never say no.
Water is my weakness.
As are the children.
Noah, who at three, already looks so much like you.
John, who you hold so tenderly to you.
I see you with them and imagine our children in your arms.
We make love one last time.
I smell the chlorine as we struggle with the gate.
Noah jumping up and down, his excitement palpable.
John making the cooing sounds of babyhood, his head nestled softly against my chest.
You’re smiling at Noah, juggling the towels, diaper bag, floaties, cell phones and keys.
I’m flooded again.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, beautiful. Where did that come from?”
“I just wanted to say it.”
I lean in to kiss you, but have forgotten John is in my arms.
He reaches up and plasters his hand across your face.
“I guess he didn’t want me kissing his girl.”
You laugh as you kiss his hand instead.
Blowing a raspberry on it.
Making him squirm in my arms.
Noah is running to the edge before you’ve had time to lay anything down.
“Noah Kyle! You wait on your Aunt Meghan to get in first!”
I startle when I hear you.
I will be an aunt.
A wife and an aunt.
Noah stares petulantly at me.
“Get in, Meghan! I want to jump!”
I slide out of my sandals and pull the towel from my waist.
John squeals in anticipation of the water.
As my toe touches the first step, Noah sails in.
The water is cool.
The splash alarms John and he starts to cry.
I kiss his cheek and jostle him about.
The water is to my waist now and I dip his legs into the water.
You slid in behind us, unnoticed.
“You’re so good with him. You'll make a wonderful mother.”
I feel one arm circle my waist.
You gather my hair together and fold it on my head.
Your lips touch the nape of my neck as you squeeze my hip.
“Ugh, gross, Uncle Jeff!”
“Noah, you will kiss girls one day, too. Trust me on this.”
The look on his face clearly argues with you.
You laugh and kiss my shoulder.
Our time in the pool seems endless.
We stay long after the sun has gone.
Noah is pruney and losing steam.
John is making it clear it is time for his bottle.
We trudge from the deck to my apartment.
Weary but happy.
We lie in bed.
Facing one another.
Noah at your back.
John between us.
You look pensive.
“Something on your mind?”
“I want this. With you. Our children, our days together, our nights. This is why I asked you to marry me. This. Our future. Together.”
Careful not to disturb the baby sleeping between us, I lean to you.
We kiss as the minutes tick by.
“You are all I want. Nothing else matters.”
As the last of the sentence dies on my lips, my eyes close.
Having all I could desire, I sleep soundly.