Evening Jet to Lisbon


He held her close, as close as he dared. Her smooth cheek was so close, and her graceful throat lay but inches from a kiss. He drew straight back for a moment, as social process demands. But a stronger force told him forward."I love you!" he whispered, or desired to whisper. He couldn't remember anymore. His ideas and words were lost inside the patter of rain and the knowing of the electricity in the air that she'd discussed early in the day. For one wonderful moment their individual electrons seem to be knotted and then there was combination. They had bonded."Lightning over the airport plays tricks with all the electric systems", she'd said. "They wait routes because of it. It can knock-out everything!""Well, she's right about that!" he thought.Love will come in many styles and forms, and it's possible the time meant something very different to every one of them. No matter! He was flying high at that time and that's all that mattered. He had get his legs right back on the ground later. As always, she had her legs planted firmly and properly on the ground. She'd be flying high all too soon.He fussed with the handles of her bag, and she smiled at his clumsiness. He passed it over and, with the grace of a person who had done a thousand times to it in the past, she connected the fumbled case to her travelling wardrobe. His and her recent closeness now replaced from the close proximity of the two suitcases. All was back position as it must be.But the wonder of that physical and spiritual area could not be neglected. As she walked down to simply take the night airplane to Lisbon, or maybe yet another of those unique destinations that has filled her existence of travel, he thought he noticed a tear. More likely it had been just-the moisture of-the time or raindrops playing around her eyes. Her beauty was legendary, of course, yet he'd been lucky to-see a level further beauty within.Gerry Wood, Sep, 2008 Copyright 2008



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Rachale Evans

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