Impression,

Days of mileage wear on the black tires of the baby blue caravan that rolls down the countryside, the warm August sun shining down on its metallic roof. Her hair runs down her shoulders as her head rests on his, eyes open gazing into the vast greenery of fields and farm. The sound of rubber against pavement, friction that carries them across this winding road. The driver adjusts his mirror, glancing back at his passengers of which most are embraced by tiredness and find themselves in a deep sleep. Despite fatigue, they dream of home. The chords of an acoustic guitar coupled with her tender voice, memories of mornings spent with family, evenings with friends. Coffee that jolts them awake until dilated pupils of sleepless nights find their way to his face and wine glasses of all the promises he made to her but failed to keep. Ecstasy that reminds her of that nightclub down the street of the church that she used to visit as a 7-year old girl, the heat of bodies and the smell of alcohol. Hips that shake back and forth to the beat of a punchy bass line pulls her into the hours of disco midnight, flashes of vibrant colour kiss the atmosphere of 4 walls. His soft hands on her waist, hers on his shoulders. Eyes of forest green and auburn brown that are locked until the singer's soulful voice reaches his chest, she rests her head on his shoulders as he pulls her in closer. The youthfulness of love before Autumn, before green turns to red, blue skies into grey, perfection into realization. A choice that causes most to flee but some to stay, deciding that this is not only where they want to be, but where they are meant to be. Dancing in each other's arms even when day turns into night, even when the waves of time erode their perfection and reveal who they really are, some will choose to stay. And even if all they leave behind are memories, life goes on. Someone's departure in preparation for someone else's arrival; a forecast of clear skies and warm sunshine. The falling snow on Christmas day as her hand places itself into his without notice as neon lights line the rooftop of her home as he walks with her after evening mass, reminding him of what he has found. Unearthed after decades in search, years in patience comforted by the hope of something better. A day yet to arrive but will pass by in its own time, a question that won't be solved but rather an answer that will stumbles its way into his path. Breathless yet still beating, broken but blessed; a silent sanctification. She runs after him with reckless abandon, the sight of his curls bouncing on his head as he steps inside the train cab ready to leave behind all that was for all that might be. 

Art by Claude Monet