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Memories of an Artist, part three
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Memories of an Artist, part three |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia 
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The night faded quickly, from darkest cobalt to cold ebony, underneath the starred canopy of love's memories. I knew it would be impossible to sleep while my mind’s eyes were wide open to the memory of your face. I could feel the touch of your hand on mine, and smell the sweetness of your breath as it fell upon my lips. No sigh could ever break the spell; nothing could release these memories out into the fresh night air, where perhaps I’d be able to let them fade away upon some kind gentle breeze. In truth, my heart beats too loudly, and declares it shall never let go of you, though months should turn to years. After leaving the inn, the drive back home seemed to last forever. I don’t remember the highway turnoff past the eucalyptus trees that line the road to the lonely driveway. The air promised a foggy chill would soon be settling in along the coast, providing the perfect accompaniment for my mood. Seeing that man at the inn smiling at me with your eyes had chilled me to the depths of my existence. Unprepared for that gaze, I reacted as a startled doe in the woods, and fled without so much as a backward glance. You would have laughed. In your inimitable style, you would have tilted your head back in a gale of laughter at my clumsy retreat, seeing one of my proverbial panic attacks in full swing. It took several moments for me to recover my senses enough to realize those eyes I saw were not yours. But oh, my heartbeat responded as if that look had come from you. Time and distance sometimes comfort me, but never quite arrest these feelings of sorrow. If I could paint this sorrow in the blues you would have chosen for your midnight scenes, perhaps I’d find some solace, some small amount of release or understanding, an answer to all the whys and the cries of my heart. The only small comfort I feel comes from staring at your self-portrait. But even that brings pain, knowing there will never be another. And I know what tomorrow brings. Another day with faded colors greeting me at dawn. This morning’s dew brings soft memories of our mountain hikes. You always climbed methodically, slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb the frailest of the native wildflowers scattered leanly upon the hillsides and in the shallow ravines. You always knelt gently on one knee, magnifying lens in hand, anticipating the discovery of some rare and endangered species. Sometimes, you would jump up shouting “Eureka!” for all to hear when you found a treasured plant. I used to laugh, and could not help but remember all the hikes I took with another friend who used to race as fast as possible to the top of the ridge, stomping over the very treasures you lived for (but often forgot to paint.) You lit up the day sky more brilliantly than the north star at night, and your smile rivaled the flashing beauty of the aurora, my beloved rainbow dancing lights. Today, I shall visit the spot where you first brushed my cheek with the velvety softness of your lips. It was while we stood at cliff’s edge, overlooking the magnificent emerald waves that stretch themselves out to lovingly greet us as they roll in casually from the nearby islands. I remember how the warmth of the golden sunshine matched the glow from the California poppies that burst forth in living color and life’s energy. You quickly set up your easel, laid down the colors as they caught your eyes, and within a few short brushstrokes of time, captured both the life of the day and my heart. Nothing could stop the flow of love from your heart to the canvas that day. Even the bright yellow coreopsis bushes clung to the side of the cliff in anticipation, patiently waiting their turn to be captured by your brush. I stood in awe, knowing this moment would stay forever imprinted upon my mind and heart. To be continued…. |
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| © Copyright 2003 Kathleen Kacy Stafford - All Rights Reserved | |||
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wranx Member Elite
since 2002-06-07
Posts 3689Moved from a shack to a barn |
Then, let it be continued. This (these), are wonders. You have a knack for this prose thing. |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
Thanks, wranx.  please let me know if/when this starts to get cliched or boring or (heaven help me) too slobbery! It's not the kind of story I thought I'd write, but it seems to be writing itself, anyway. LOL, does that make sense? |
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Duncan Member Ascendant
since 2001-08-07
Posts 5455 |
"Sometimes, you would jump up shouting “Eureka!” for all to hear when you found a treasured plant. I used to laugh, and could not help but remember all the hikes I took with another friend who used to race as fast as possible to the top of the ridge, stomping over the very treasures you lived for (but often forgot to paint.) You lit up the day sky more brilliantly than the north star at night, and your smile rivaled the flashing beauty of the aurora, my beloved rainbow dancing lights." Loved this part Kacy. And my attention span held up just fine...lol. Amazing, huh? The person you're writing here has a "Vincent" feel to him, which doesn't surprise me at all. An artist paints an artist... Truly enjoyed Kacy. You'll let me know when you've posted another chapter, I hope. |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
THANK YOU Dunc! Yes, and I am really delighted you liked that particular part, as much of it was based upon my own life experiences hiking with the California Native Plant Society, as well as the Sierra Club. |
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MsSouthernOrchid Member
since 2003-07-12
Posts 192 |
This is good. Can't wait to read more.  |
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MsSouthernOrchid Member
since 2003-07-12
Posts 192 |
Hi again. Just wanted to tell you that I reread all three parts again and liked it even better the 2nd time around. Your poetry is good also, but you are superb at this prose thing. At least, that is my opinion, for what it's worth. hmmm  |
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merlynh Member
since 1999-09-26
Posts 411deer park, wa |
Midnitesun you show much promise as a writer. "but it seems to be writing itself, anyway. LOL, does that make sense?" Yes it does, that's the way stories are suppose to be written. Your very honest with your feeling here and it shows in the writting. I look forward to reading more. |
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