It was a fond memory, or a dream, either way I know that I'm fond of it. It was a simpler time before life grabbed hold and threw me down a path to where I am, to what I've become.
I loved that time of my life, and I loved often. Hearts were broken, mine and theirs, and hearts were set afire with passion. Or should I say lust. We would walk the railroad tracks to "our private spot" and spent the day encased in each others arms, and the quilt. The birds sang to our beat, the wind played its melody as it swept across us, nature turned off the sounds of the world so we could listen to each other's heart beat.
That is until the train came by, shattering our world, pulling us back to reality. I can still see the eyes of two older ladies who sat in the third passenger car, two rows from the back, as they realized what they were seeing. Was it disappointment in this younger generation that glared back at me? Was it disgust? Was it envy? Was it a fond memory, or a dream, that they remembered from years past?
We laughed, hoping our grandparents weren't their friends, and started back down the railroad tracks to my car. She looked up at me and said something like this, "I don't think I will ever have another day as good as this one." I don't know about her, but life did get sweeter with a few sour spots along the way. What I could tell her now is that love, true love, is much sweeter than lust. That lust, no matter how good it is, lasts for only the moment, love lasts forever and a day.
It may be a fond memory, or a dream, but it is unique to me, for me. One of millions that has piled on day after day, made just for me. And when these memories come flooding back, I smile and once again relive that moment in time.