Undone by a breeze

I can sometimes go a few days to a week with smiles and a few responses of, “Oh, yes, I’m fine.” Then, unexpectedly, I can be undone by a breeze.

Tonight, as I was walking to my car after work, a gentle breeze caused me to slow my step. The breeze smelled of the sea, of hope and a promise. It was a quiet sigh against the back of my neck and raised small, damp hairs on this muggy, summer’s day.

It felt like you were touching my forearm like you often did at night before taking me in your embrace, my back against your chest. As you took me into the enveloping warmth and safety of your trust and love, I would close my eyes, complete and content. I would drift off to sleep as you whispered, “I’ll never leave you.” Your breath on my neck was a gentle exhale that smelled of mint, of hope and a promise.

Another breeze and flashes of every time I was in your arms – the night we met and danced, our first kiss, our wedding as we danced to Feels Like Home, our last (and last) anniversary spooning in your hospital bed. “I’ll never leave you.”

Tonight, I was undone by a breeze. It was all I could do to get to my car before the first tear fell.