the most beautiful memory: pacific breeze hips
I remember the feeling of sinking into my bones and joints, feet gracefully heavy in the sand, hips above them swaying softly as the breeze blew around them. I remember majestic palm trees with arms in the air celebrating the life below and above. I remember long streets lined with old trees and architecture. I remember art around every corner of the little coastal towns, some of it now gracing my home, and art flitting through my mind in a stream of sweet song and movement, some of it still gracing my cells in homage.
I remember the substance of the air, the way it filled my lungs and soaked my eyes in light wicked moisture. I remember the voices, smooth and agile in their sliding, romantic and acrobatic enunciation, and buried in them a memory of whispered words dusted with the same sliding – hushed and immortal.
I remember the Andes rising above bricked streets behind god-like hands outstretched above our bobbing heads. I remember the sea falling out from the shore seen from to tops of high up hills and I remember the colors that soaked the walls and my eyes, and burned lightly into my skin. I remember the glow I had when I returned, because so many people noticed.
And I remember years of longing to return. And so, I will. And I’ll stay as long as I like.