A Different Kind of Warmth
Posted on 18th August 2020 by Daniel Picave
It's a different kind of warmth. The sun looks brighter, clearer, more defined in a sky which is so wide, so uncluttered by the usual ugly scars of our existence. Buildings, overpasses, underpasses, obelisks to our vanity kissed accomplishments.
The sky slides down the picture and reaches out its fingertips to tickle the surface of the ocean and disturb the tranquillity. Tiny excited waves giggle and gurgle as they race across the aquatic landscape towards the lounging sand soaked beach. A strip of foot scorching paradise dividing the aquatic landscape from the lush green forest behind us.
What is it about this scene which is so foreign and yet so serene? Then, as a fingertip lazily glides over my thigh, it strikes me. There is no industrial desecration, no footprints of marauding mankind. It is the beauty of nature, it is the grandeur of God.
I close my eyes and turn my face to the sun to let its warmth caress me. A single fingertip continues to trace idle patterns on my thigh and I look at it. I follow the finger and over the hand as I continue along the arm with the feint scent of coconut and pause for a moment at the shoulder. Her breathing is shallow and even as she lies basking in the sunlight with her eyes closed and sand between her toes. I know her face.
I know her face so well it is as if I had drawn it. I know the contours, the shadow, the glow, the slope of her nose, the teasing outline of her lips and the captivating eyes behind those eyelids. The sun throws rays of warm light upon her, it's just a different warmth, a satisfying warmth. I lift her finger from my thigh and entwine her fingers with mine just as the silence is broken by the sound of squealing and laughter.
She goes to lift herself from the lounger and I put my hand lightly on her torso to indicate to her to stay. I marry her lips with mine and with a different kind of warmth, embrace the laughter.
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