The Park

He played with squeaks and squeals like he was a novice player but he had been doing this for years. He serenaded at the formal gardens during the golden sunlight part of the day as often as he could. It cooled his thoughts and softened his heart.

The other officers had no idea of this alter ego. They knew him as the cold eyed hard ass. The straight player in the good cop bad cop routine. This musical facet of him hit at a truth unknown to his buddies. Only his lovers know of this tenderness, but that was because he played them much like he played his soprano sax. The rise and fall of his sex much like the rise and fall of his melody; tongue, teeth, caress, and blow. All elements in the same vein stemming from the same desire. Yet another facet his fellow officers knew nothing about.

Volcano

The hell fire of the volcano swirled and popped sending plumbs of molten lava into the air, spitting like a boiling pot of soup. It was so unearthly that in the moment it elicited little emotional response. Only when the truck turned and the view was lost did she feel the breath extinguish and the knees jelly. It was the remarkableness of the moment and the loss caused by the shock that made her ache to return. She wanted the emotional response; she needed it in a way she couldn't explain. She cursed her own humanness and her ability to diminish the impact. She wanted to live it again, smell the seer of the fire and feel immersed in the heat. She wanted to see again the explosion of nature at it's finest and most brutal. She could close her eyes and see the jagged imprint of the rocks and the lava glowing with the brilliance that reminded her of stolen glances at the sun. The sulfur and burn lingered. She could smell it faintly on her clothes like sleep.

Sunset

The sunset on the cottage by the sea. The tell tale pinking of the sky and the golden hue of air and sky deepened. The colors melted into each other with a magical sharpness that enthralled. She knew dinner was late. She knew that he would come home soon; sullen and bitter with what the day had wrought and what this life had brought. That bitterness encompassed her at times. Moments like this though brought calm and peace. The golden sunlight moments were hers alone.

She breathed in the wet salt air and smelled the fishy brine of her home. She knew her dreams dissolved like the holy host on her tongue. The children she ached for and the blessings she yearned for. She felt free of her aches and yearnings during her stolen moments.

The snap of the clothes on the line returned her musings to reality. The wet air would ruin her work for the day. She began taking in laundry after her second miscarriage. She was known for her sweet smelling clothes. She rinsed in lavender water, but she knew it was the sunshine that freshened. She used to cluck over the baby clothes and nappies she washed. Fussing and dreaming that she would have to answer a skwall of a child stirred from a nap. She would answer the call happily. She knew in her heart that she wasn't barren, she craved a baby too badly.

She had that dream of chasing a small child around the shed; laughter ringing true on the ocean breeze. When she caught the wee one, and he looked up he had her eyes. She knew the angels would not have sent such a sign without fruition.

The snap of the clothes called her again and she answered with a quick turn that broke her revelry. A sure march across the packed dirt of the ground gave her the solidness to do her duty.