I'm not exactly sure what to write this morning, but nevertheless I felt inspired to open this little portable Bluetooth keyboard and pair it to my phone, on which I'm employing the Google Notes app to scribe this forementioned unknown item.
To fill out the mise-en-scène, I'm currently listening to an online playlist of songs I compiled one evening a while back at the old house in which we used to live, while sitting and enjoying another brilliant and insightful conversation with my beloved wife by electric candlelight at our patio table. The subtle light captured the very style with which I've mentally recorded irreplaceable memories like this one my entire life; the longing voice of Rod Stewart imploring eternal love from his unseen paramour reminding me of the soft blowing of the summer breeze casually tousling my love's hair as she smiled alternately at her emptying glass of wine and my devoted, undoubtedly goofy face, something I said having made her laugh a little. Whether it was my well-timed comedic delivery or the smooth inebriating effect of the grape juice will never matter to me, not when it comes to recalling such an image-laden memory as this.
While I can fortunately claim that there have been many such moments describable with many such settings in atmosphere, accompanying soundtrack, vintage libations, and the players themselves, I can also confess that there haven't nearly been enough such moments, and I've no one to blame but myself. Soon I'll return home to my smiling lady - too often do these seperating 300 miles feel like 3000 and the numerous hours become irretrievable lost days - and we'll listen to more music, listen to each other laugh flirtatiously and boisterously, smile at our glasses refilled, smile at each other, by whatever available light illuminates that moment, feeling whatever available fresh air the night affords us, and another irreplaceable memory will hopefully be recorded and lovingly archived in this old traveler's mind.
I'm grateful for this little Bluetooth keyboard today. This entry has turned into a written sample of what is actually my eternal wish for this life. She's who makes them come true.
Maybe I'll write more about her every tomorrow.
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