There was a Facebook posting this morning from a good friend. He was heading back to the old stomping grounds with his wife and kids and had commented about wondering if certain things were still there. It jogged some memories REAL fast, and the first one was of Delores and a specific night we had outside.
She and I had been there several times. I had been there hundreds upon hundreds. And there were tons of old ghosts that ran around that place.
But this particular night, we got it on in the grass on a hillside. and the more I think about it, the clearer it becomes. Not anything other than looking at her on top of me. I see it more vividly with every thought of it. The way her eyes closed, they way she leaned ever so slightly back. i can still feel her hands on my chest.
So I had to go. There were just to many memories not to. I found the spot where she and I had been that night and the entire hillside was covered in pricker bushes and weeds. every spot except one. For lack of a better term "our spot". That was covered in clover. A thick, plush, soft bed of clover in the midst of all this sharp, prickly garbage.
I didn't believe it. I checked from all angles, near and far, but that was the spot. I remember because of the angle of that particular area and the proximity to some unchanging, unique landmarks. There was our spot and it was even better than when it was the well tended grass.
Now Delores knows that I have partied in that area hundreds of times. She and I have shared a lot of firsts with each other. There is something that she doesn't know about that place.
I have never been intimate with someone there. Not before, not since.
It's an "only" for me.
I thought about it the whole drive there, and now, I can't stop thinking about it.
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