Open Windows

How a memory can be brought to us when we least expect it.

Open Windows

As I see the tree's grow green, and hear the church bells ring,

sadness steals inside of me to press against that tender place,

and make it ache anew.

Twenty years have come and gone, and your face is faded and far from me. My shoulders ache to again feel the comfort of your strong arms' embraced.

Yet no matter how I cried for you, and searched each cob-web corner of my mind, only peak-a-boo glimpses came to comfort me.

Fragmented images flickered in and out of my dreams at night.

And then, 

yesterday 

as I walked by

 my window...opened now for spring.

I caught the scent of fresh mowed lawn, like ripe fresh watermelons, and breathing deep, I took the scent inside of me and closed my eyes.

Suddenly,

 in firework flash-bright clarity

the years were gone.

Your face was vivid memory

and I was there with you again.

Eyes, faded denim blue,

a hue as soft as their

namesake colored cotton

fabric feels.

Cheeks that wore a constant blush

of girlish rose despite the almost four

score year of life.

Lips curled in constant ready smile, laughter

lingering at the edges of each angle and plane,

 dressing the mobile face in effulgent vivacity.

And best of all?

 The radiant love that enveloped me without word.

Without a touch. 

 Just one look from adoring eyes, and I was home.

Oh, home.

How strange that all the while I struggled to see that beloved face

it came to me, soft...

carried on the wind.

We were sitting out behind the clapboard house.

Beside the brook that gurgled and plashed it's way from the old wood.

Tumbled through the tufts of grass to fall into the roadside drain.

We sat under a birch, it was bowed and old and bent but living still.

 Splashing our feet and laughing low--silent,-fingers-to-the-lips conspirators.

Hidden in our own wonder world for one brief pause.

We had taken a watermelon from the vegetable cellar, and sliced into it's pink juiciness, delighting in the respite from the summer's oppressive heat.

And like always while at my grandmother's side, everything felt as though things would be alright.

I stood there in front of the window, my face alight with smiles, and tears ran their watermellon memories down my cheeks as my Gram hugged me again with her eyes.    

Author's Note

Please ignore grammar or spelling issues. I will double check them myself. :)
Please concentrate if you will on if the alliteration works. Does the word usage work? Is the Protagonist believable? Thank you so much for any and all feedback.

Reviews

[Tasha]

Yes the word usage works and the protagonist is believable. This was really good and it came together wonderfully. You wrote it beautifully, its truly an amazing piece.
♥ Ta'Shandra