creative reflections

So what do you do when you fall in love?  Keep being drawn back to the object of your attention, dwell on it, draw it close, take it home?  So have started many encounters, one such on a hot summer weekend when my eye caught, at ground level, a glint, a hint, the tiniest suggestion of the fleeting edges of heaven’s iridescent clouds.  Not a golden fleece but a shining ivory, reflecting sunlight like a jewel.  I kept finding myself walking past it and thinking what would I do with a fleece?  Please!  But the more I dismissed it, the more surely it drew me back.

The vendor, like a knowing grandmother seeing a child's eager, longing eyes, patiently watched this ebb and flow.  When at the end of the event I finally determined I’d wed myself to this exquisite find, I found the vendor packing up.  Had I missed my opportunity?  Had someone else claimed it?  Slightly panicky I asked if she still had the fleece.  Yes.  Could I still purchase it?  Certainly, she’d just have to unpack a bit to dig it out.  Was this the one?  Yesss, siiiiiigh.  Tentative curling edges of a smile creased and teased my mouth.  Nervous energy pinged around the neurons of my brain threatening to escape into the ether.

My better half, who’d accompanied me then asked wasn’t there another you’d been talking about too?  Well, yes, it had a marvelous swirling series of colors from ruddy chestnut to deep walnut, midnight to greying coal, and every breathtaking color in between.  And oh, you still have that one too?  *gasp*  To my surprise my handler/enabler half said I should take both.  Gulp.  That had IMPLICATIONS.  And expectations and requirements.  Ah, but the lust was too much and I gave in without argument.  What discerning vendor could then resist what I next heard?  Well, there’s also this one that I really don’t want to take home and I’ll give it to you half price if you’ll take it off my hands.  You could even resell it, but don’t take less than full price for it—it’s a nice one.  And now, after a couple months of continuing to pass and drool over this unbelievable treasure trove, I reflect on this binge, this passionate act.  What HAVE I gotten myself into, not one but three mistresses beckoning to me.   Siren song, you slay me silently, sensually, locks swirling in my subconscious.…