Lost in November

A sliver of hair wafts through the air. Promises of a chance encounter. Someone I want to know. Get to know. Understand the nods and nudges. Smiles and questioning frowns. A wall inconvenient, stands between me and my muse. The wall turns a corner further blocking my view, shielding the gaze.

A walk down tracing the contours of the wall furthers my apprehension and anticipation. Claps of a busy morning on colonial outdoors, a lot of it cacophonous and yet following a steady rhythm, all that’s missing is the wail of a seller to complete the melody. But my thoughts are elsewhere.

Sleep was fitful. Long and laborious the days, cold and shivery the nights. Equally interesting and exhausting, the passion and the decision, the crutch and the wings, the cadence of many conversations half finished. Not all in vain for here I pursue. A promise of what I yearn.

The wall ends and I feel I should back away lest I scare away my muse. Also, because I am too scared to meet. For a touch might dissolve what it ever stood for. Or disintegrate what I ever consist of. There’s a familiar knot in my throat that comes from holding my breath too tight. The sinews of the forehead trying to bursting out, a mix of fear and hope.

A remnant of a memory comes to the fore. A time long past, a sensation almost forgotten, cautioning me. A whistle emerges out of me, testing the surrounds to see if I am right. A squeal emerges from the other side.

I go around and open my arms. And into it runs my new friend. A morning well spent, a walk well fulfilled, a paw held and caressed, another small milestone crossed in a lifetime of unfulfilled expectations.