the past few weeks have been roaring over with so many memorable tastes, smells, sounds, and other magical moments that i want to keep them in my palm and bring them so close to the safety of my heart.
sucking the bbq sauce from island takeout from our fingers. the unforgettably soft and succulent crunch of lobster meat. sweet lips swollen with drink and mirth. the press of a cold glass of water against your mouth, the slight clink if it taps against your teeth. the salty taste of skin after a long and challenging hike. veggie peanut tofu noodles, made with loving hands and plants from her garden. loni’s empress gin lemonades.
the aroma of his cologne, yes, but even more so, the tantalizing aroma of his skin after a day in the wilderness. the comforting papery scent of grandma and grandpa’s beloved board games. the unforgiving smell of long drives (old fast food wrappers, the burn of rubber tires, and still wet bathing suits hanging from the roof to dry). the delicious heat coming from fresh chocolate pancakes and bacon in the diner. the cleanest oxygen i’ve ever breathed atop a majestic mountain in acadia, drinking in the salty sea air.
the gentle slap of his hands against the steering wheel as the speakers purr out his favorite song. our laughter as we tumble around in bed together, the Wii music a nostalgic and hilarious backdrop for our hoots of laughter. the startling crash and boom of thunder directly above our heads, the soft sighs as we roll back over to sleep. the wonderful audiobook of harry potter & the chamber of secrets. hearing sophie’s kind voice through my drunken haze, coaching us on how to play her favorite game.
the rock scramble down the bubble loop and the ladders up to beech cliff ladder trail. ditching the long line for lobsters to buy the best food from a tiny restaurant behind a convenience store instead. soaking in the hot tub, a beer and a lychee vodka pooling condensation on the bench beside us. ordering our very own feast in boston, clinking oysters on the half shell like tiny champagne flutes. getting up early to see the sunrise but being met with clouds and mist instead. being fucked on the counter while everyone slept around us. playing chameleon with my family. your paddleboard sinking so we took turns paddling each other back to the shore. slithering up the creek with sophie like little river snakes. taking turns sleeping in the passenger seat. giggling in the yurt and sharing secrets in hushed voices so we don’t wake the others. playing the guessing game until we’re red in the faces with laughter.
i love you and all our little moments.
jacobvanloon
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