Memory: Running Water

We’re sitting in our jacuzzi, laughing, talking, enjoying the joys of being alone together, the temperature of the water is just right…..not too hot or not too cold….our conversations are pleasing to our ears, there are no kids in the house, there are no kids in the house, no kids.in.the.house. There’s soft music playing, in the background – maybe jazz- contemporary jazz?!?! – I don’t know because all of it is consumed by the sounds of laughter and love that fills the room.  The smell of lavender is in the air as he pours an almond milk-like liquid into the jacuzzi and sprinkles rose petals over my head and into the running water.  Where everything is seen and where every sound is heard and where every touch, is felt.  My mind is filled with confusing thoughts because I want this memory to last forever but unfortunately, it doesn’t and that’s why it’s the memory of running water, now.  He touches my hands and massages each fingers with oils that lingers as a cool breeze above my neckline, and mixes with the soapy textures of bubbles that are overcrowding my thoughts.  I feel us sinking into blaming each other for our present failures, hurting one another with our thoughts, deeds and words, and with lustful desires of others but the memory of this running water that used to feel so good, now seems so lonely.  Where is the love and laughter that once filled this room?  Was that jazz or contemporary jazz, I heard?  Who cares, because the memory of running water is all I have now, and that memory, will.never.be.the.same.

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