The last time I saw you was a day just like this. A warm breeze tangled my hair, and the overcast blue sky promised needed rain. The fringe of grain brushed our legs and hands as we walked. And we’d walk for hours without thinking about it, talking about music and books and life. Not until the sun was low in the sky would we realize we’d be in hot water yet again.
I never realized echoes are tangible. The shape of your hand echoes in mine – stronger, rougher, but gentle. In fact, the ends of the stalks tickle my skin the way your fingers did the first time you took my hands. Words and voices twist and echo in the breeze, catching in my heart like butterflies in a net. If I close my eyes, I can feel you embrace me from behind, catching me, letting me rest against you while we listened to crickets and birds and felt each other breathe.
Now, I look at the horizon and wonder where you are, and if you’re all right. And if you think of me. Some days, I half expect to see you striding through the wheat in one of those navy blue t-shirts you always used to wear, a dark figure against green…and then gold, as the seasons changed.
Five years. That’s a heartbeat for the universe. A corner of my heart continues to love you, and I used to believe that you’d come back any day. I still hope.
At least, when I come to our golden field, I get to be alone with you.