Strawberries

This gentle sun kissed spring day takes me back to that brightly dappled meadow of long ago, with its wild strawberries, ripe and ripening, dazzling hues of reds and oranges embraced by the vibrant green foliage, fragrant and abundant.  I remember taking her into my arms and smelling those same strawberries in her hair and tasting them on her lips.  

We were as two school children, suddenly released into summers yard...  Unleashed, we followed our inner tides and music, delving among the ripe fruit, sampling here and there, sharing both the luscious berries and the succulent kisses.

Bathing in the sunlight, gloriously soaking in the warmth of this blessed day, hand in hand we strolled, talked, kissed and hugged, squeezing and touching, until passions overtook us and we made love among the berries. The day sped past with remarkable speed, leaving now only the memory of her, and of course, the strawberries.

I wished I had a way to thank her for that day.   But, in retrospect, I probably don’t need to express what we both felt and experienced.  And our memorial to that wonderful sunny day erupts from the soil each spring, casting to the breeze the perfume of berries.  I smell them still, if only I could taste them once more upon her lips.

Ah, but those days are long gone, and today I am a grown man, with family and obligations long and steadfastly honored.  It must have been the scent of strawberries in the air that brought that day and her youthful eyes back into my life.  As I walk towards my car and the long drive home from work, I realize that as much as I love my life, love my wife and love my children and grandchildren, what I want most at this moment is to touch her face, gaze into her eyes and taste the sweet strawberries we once shared.

Yes, I know, we can never go back, and if I saw her today, well, we have all moved on really.  Haven’t we?  Although the eyes never age, I am certain I would recognize those eyes.  But so much else has.  I am certainly no longer the fit young man she once knew, not to mention the hair is much shorter and well, to be honest, a lot thinner. She is probably the mother of two or three kids and yes, the years do change us all.

I wonder if she thinks of that day when she smells the berries on the wind.  Or makes shortcake for her family?  I would like to think a little of that magical day still exists, if only in our minds.

Well, I dally when in fact I should be driving home.  

Getting into my car I pause and sniff the winds.  Yes, strawberries for certain.  Smiling, I start the engine and pull into the street, heading for home.  And instead, drive towards the country, seeking the fields of my dreams.