Courtesy of William Shakespeare

As Eve surely uttered,

I did at our beginning,

and mean now still.

For more than half a life,

As William wrote,

“I do love nothing in the world as I do you.”

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(This week’s Trifecta challenge: Exactly 33 words and one of the must be a palindrome (a word or phrase that reads the same forwards and backwards).)

It’s my 25^th anniversary and time has passed too frighteningly quickly. And through the highs and lows (because there were many), good times and those more challenging (and broke), there are a few choices I wish I’d made differently. This is not one of them.

I wasn’t going to participate this week because I have many other celebratory type things on my mind, but I couldn’t help myself. I will miss Trifecta more than my meager and ineloquent words here can express. I can’t recall how I stumbled upon them in January 2012, but I’ve never missed a Monday or Friday where I didn’t look for the prompt or read about the winners. Hats off to Lisa and Joules for creating the awesome place it is by bringing together some of the most talented, kind and respectful writers. They had a tough job and did it with great spirit. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!

Trifecta: Twenty-four Years

3:46 a.m.

My hazy gaze turns left for needless confirmation. The red LED numbers illuminate the same combination night after night. It's a real life version of Ground Hog Day, the movie, but it's a standing time they have, the one at which my body and mind choose to commune. Disturbing my peaceful slumber as wired toddlers do.

Eyelids remaining lightly closed and thoughts quickly, nimbly moving through my half-awake state, I've learned to embrace these hours like a frisky and persistent lover. There's nothing else to do but give in. 

In the not so long past, or so it seems, these moments were filled with nocturnal whispers. I fondly remember them as the solitary yet perfectly perfect quiet time two/too busy parents had to be "together".

Then the years blew away like a dandelion’s fluff in strong wind. They sprouted wings without asking who was prepared. And these night whispers became one-sided conversation inside my head. 

“What happened? Where's life going?”

But last night, it was different. Instead of looking towards the clock and grabbing my book, I inched over to the warmer side of the bed. Creeping within centimeters to feel his body heat, I watched his bare chest gently rise and fall. The movement was barely perceptible.

I began to whisper. Like I used to do in the dark. 

“Where did it go?

Twenty-four years.

Am I still as pretty… funny… smart... as I once was? To you.

Do you love me differently… better… more... after a quarter of a century?

Tell me.”

He rolled over pressing his good ear deep into the down. Lightly brushing my fingertips down the length of his spine, he stirred when I softly said (or maybe it was my hand), "Happy Anniversary, Honey." 

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33-333 words for:

TIME (noun)

3a : an appointed, fixed, or customary moment or hour for something to happen, begin, or end <arrived ahead of time>

b : an opportune or suitable moment <decided it was time to retire> —often used in the phrase about time <about time for a change>

The Ride (Conclusion)

It’s been a blast participating in Trifecta’s one-year anniversary celebration. It truly is a wonderfully supportive and immensely creative writing community that I’m happy to have found.

Our celebration challenge was, as a two-person team, to finish a 38-word story editor Joules started way, way back in Trifecta’s infancy. Lumdog graciously kicked it off for our team with the first 100 words and boy did he! I followed with another 100 words to complete it.

Here is our story called “The Ride”.

Charts and optimal dates and preferential temperatures. One line or two. As if she could summon whatever it is that makes up the human soul as easily as she could a cab on a busy New York avenue.

To Matt, all that scientific stuff sounded like bullshit; he just missed her too much! He hired a limo to pick up Becky at La Guardia and planned a romantic night in Manhattan.  They kissed as she got in the limo.  But he couldn’t keep his hands off her; he ran his hand up her thigh, past the hem of her short, black skirt. He kissed her neck and breasts and progressed until his lips met his fingers, her skirt now being up around her waist. As Becky slid down in the seat, he placed his weight on her body.

********************

Waiting at baggage, Becky rewound the painful conversations with Matt. Couldn’t they forget all the crap and just get after it? Like before. Like always. So much angst, when all she really wanted was to touch him without thinking about “babies”. She missed him too much.

Walking out, a text came through. “ In limo, on your left!” Chills coursed through her!

No thought of babies, Becky yanked open the door; Matt pulled her in. His lips found hers immediately. Hungry mouths. Touching. Everywhere. She enthusiastically gave herself to him.

*
They made a baby before crossing the bridge into Manhattan.