Welcome. Kick off your shoes. Grab a coffee or tea. Make yourself comfortable as we take a nostalgia trip down Memory Lane.
I am sharing a story of an experience in my life, based on the #concretewords link ‘The Moon’.
By the light of the silvery moon
“How sweet the moonlight sleeps along this bank!…soft stillness and the night become the touches of sweet harmony” ~ William Shakespeare ‘Merchant of Venice’
Our first proper date.
Alone, save for the Saturday night pavement-pounding, raucous-laughter-erupting crowd above us, solitary swan or drifting duck swimming solo in the watery depths.
We chose the quiet route of whisperers and lovers. A riverside walk in cloistered dark.
Better for hiding blushes and confusion (mine) or awkwardness (his). How to traverse this bridge between friendship and what may lay beyond?
Misunderstandings were the order of the day as we attempted to find a foothold in this strange, brave new world.
I had already flown from his bewildered side at a group Firework Party, mindful of his Ex hovering nearby and feeling myself too raw, too exposed as the Replacement Girlfriend.
Now, hugging black velvet coat to shivering body, hands digging holes into pockets, gaze averted to feet clomping in inappropriately clad water-admitting suede boots, purple swirly dress flirting audaciously in the chill breeze, I dared cast a sidelong glance at this silent demi-god beside me.
Awed by his presence. Awed further that he should have sought me out when he had girls lining up for introductions, queuing even to ask him out by giggled asides or requests from friends. And I….made liquid by his presence, weak and wobbly from his smile...hid myself and my thoughts far away.
A myriad of tiny trickling lanterns in an indigo-blue canopy of sky gave this night a starry feel. Peeking out as through slashes in a curtain, lay a silver orb with light to aid our sight, night-careful indicator of deep waters.
Wind blew chill, hands cooler still, though hearts and veins thrilled with heat of their own.
He slowed his pace. Consideration, hope and a hovering enquiry on his face. Hand held out for mine. A promise of warmth, togetherness and beginnings of the love he always held for me.
I looked away, watched the duck, feeling torn…with desire to embrace…and indecision. For in my past, lust came masqueraded as love, arms pulled away when I needed them, hands held, touched hotly when I didn’t.
A legacy of shame: abused, used and rejected by those purporting to care – all did their share of destroying me inside.
Now, I beheld his gaze and it melted my reserve as I read kindness, gentleness, sensitivity and love that cared only to keep me safe. Nothing hurried. Nothing expected – apart from whatever I was willing to give.
Taking it slow, so it didn’t feel like ‘taking’
Love given out sweet-poured as nectar. Moon dipping low in an act of benediction, seal of approval for two friends and would-be lovers.
Such a simple act – hand holding, embracing. Such simple trust we built upon stone by stone as years of life spanned out before us
Image Courtesy of FreeDigitalImages.Net
Whispers from weeping willows lining the banks as they sunk low to water were a portent of the way tears would be as much part of our lives as tenderness.
All that came after was yet to come. I would barely emerge, blinking from the honeymoon, before my mind would break apart, personality and character lost for years as I pieced myself together again – bit by bit – by God’s grace.
Further heartache and heartbreak would ensue as issues from the past pervaded the present. Storms aplenty could not tear apart or destroy, hard as they tried. We were welded and melded together by Trust.
Kept safe by the love of One greater than any circumstance that came against us.
For, God shone in that moon as He shines now in our hearts, bathing them with His love.
Gifting us with the Light of His Presence.
Hand-holding us throughout the years – as He still does.
Now, silvery moonbeam-threaded hair, bodies and faces betraying the years, grappling once more with life’s trials, tribulations and pains, our hearts pulse strong, tender and true for one another, as love… heated and tried in the furnace of affliction…comes forth as gold.
Linking here with Nacole at sixinthesticks
for this week’s #concretewords post.
Do join us and practice writing about the abstract by using concrete words as a prompt.
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