Blanket Memories

He couldn’t keep the image out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried. When he had found the blanket tucked away in the closet, the images of her had come flooding back. All he could do was lean against the wall and let the memories, the tears, come rushing back.

It definitely wasn’t love at first sight. Sure, lust at first sight, but it was more than that as well. It was like meeting someone you just like, someone you are drawn to, someone you want to be friends with. But it had been more than that too. It was hard to remember exactly how he had felt those five years ago. One thing was certain; even then he had known something special was happening.

She had been standing at the bar, across a crowded room, talking to some mutual friends. She was so animated and lively that she seemed to draw your attention without you even noticing. It wasn’t until he had walked up and starting talking to his friends that he got a good look at her and realized how beautiful she was.

Mostly it was her eyes. They were this beautiful shade of brown, almost hazel, but it wasn’t just the color of them, it was like they shone, they were so alive. To say they sparkled would insult them. From the moment he looked into her eyes, he had a hard time looking away the rest of the evening.

They had quickly started up their own conversation, never noticing when their friends had wandered off, leaving them at the bar talking and getting to know each other. They had so much in common it seemed, and he couldn’t believe how similar their backgrounds were.

They finally did notice that they had been abandoned by their friends when the band had started playing ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ and he had asked her to dance. The band was one of those local bands that did party tunes and covers, but with a few beers and the good company, the music sounded great. They danced several songs before escaping the crowd by sneaking into the alley for some cool air.

It seemed like the waitress yelling last call came just a few minutes later, even though he knew the bar closed at three am. He had looked down at his watch just as she had said, ‘There is no way that its three am!’

Indeed it was closing time, so they paid their tab and began making their way toward the parking lot. He had wondered how to prolong the evening when she had said, ‘Why don’t we grab a blanket out of my car and go sit down by the lake.’

He quickly agreed and they had grabbed the blanket and walked down to the park on the lake shore. She spread the blanket on the ground and they had sat down, looking out over the lake, the moonlight glittering softly on the water. Then came the awkward moment of silence. All evening, the conversation had flowed easily, casually, and now it was like he needed to say something profound to not loose the moment.

He had turned to her, looking at her, about to make some comment about how beautiful she was, only to find her leaning in towards him, lips puckered, head tilted up. He hadn’t hesitated, bending down to taste those soft lips, to breathe in her fragrant essence, to savor her beauty with more than just his eyes.

His hand had found her back and pulled her to him, her hands wrapping around his neck, her fingers running through his hair. And they had kissed, softly at first, exploring each other, and then more forcefully, finally having to break and catch their breath. She had leaned into him, laying her head on his shoulder.

He had whispered in her ear, ‘I have wanted to do that all evening.’ She had hugged him tightly when she heard this and snuggled into the curve of his arm. He had smiled to himself, and softly caressed her back, starting to memorize her every curve and nuance that very night, hoping that there would be a lifetime of nights like this one to follow.

They didn’t do much talking the rest of the night, but they continued to softly make the others acquaintance, tongues meeting softly for the first time, hands roaming over the soft curves, hard curves, and soft kisses placed along slips of tender exposed skin.

It was the not so gentle approach of a police officer on patrol through the park that brought them out of their reverie. They had hastily gathered themselves and the blanket and run off to their cars, laughing loudly. All the way back to the car, he had savored the red blush that had risen to her cheeks and the way her body moved as she ran.

Somehow, in the haste of their goodbye, he had ended up with the blanket and for the next several days it had occupied a place of honor on his passenger seat. Every time he had seen it over the next several days, it had made him smile and look forward to their next date, that following weekend.

He took a deep breath, wiping the tears from his face, trying to get control of his emotions. The sound of his son crying had brought him back from the fog of the past. He had to hold on, to keep his cool and not upset the baby. He had to remember that after his beloved wife had been taken by that terrible car accident, he alone had to raise their child.

He struggled to take another breath, another wave of grief passing over him, knowing that their son would never know his mother. And unlike the memories that he had, the most their son would ever know of his mother were a few pictures and a purple blanket.