Artist: Vincent Van Gogh

First Night

Dylan quickly glanced up and down the cobbled stone street before returning his gaze to the untouched glass of wine. He was certain that Jenny would walk by the cafe – any moment now. He shifted his chair slightly once more.  He needed to be sure she would see him sitting at their table.  On this particular night, with a forgiving full moon in play – she would surely stop when she saw him. Absently, he traced the lip of the glass.  ‘Yes … she would surely stop’, he floated out to himself.

The memory of her image flooded his mind – impossible beauty that always made his heart stop.  With those swirling blue eyes that hypnotized him so easily.  Her simple brilliant smile, that pulled his breath away.  The rhythmic sway of her fingers as she walked – her private dance with the breeze.  A dance she invited him to join.  He could still see her dress flirt across her knees as she reached for his hand. He smiled at the thought of her fluid movement that teased his senses.

And yet, he felt the undercurrent of silent stillness … of movement lost. How long had it been since he last saw her – last felt her?  He tried to ignore the question – he knew it had been too long.  Leaving her that day seemed like the right choice – the only choice. He wondered now, as he seemed to do a lot lately, if it was the only choice. ‘So much time lost’ he sighed to himself.

He’d convinced himself he came back to finish the book.  Though he thought it was done, it felt incomplete.  He knew the real reason he came back to Arles – to see her.  Had he always known he would return – for her?  With a touch of hope, he slid his hand around the contour of the glass – caressing it with his fingers as he drifted in thought.

He floated back to the first night he saw Jenny …

Michael

Artist: Julie Snyder

Defiance

“She’s a blaze of defiance”, Peter said as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Peter…” Kristen let the words trail as she felt his kiss along her neck. She instinctively folded into him – her hands sliding naturally over his. How did he always manage to make her feel like … “like what?” She tried to grasp the words to describe how he made her feel – “like home” she sighed.

“The last leaf – burgundy – clinging defiantly on our elm tree”, Peter continued. “She doesn’t want to leave the comfort of her tree” Kristen floated out. Peter squeezed Kristen slightly more as he said “Yes … I can understand that – and perhaps the tree doesn’t want her to leave as well”.

They stood together looking out of their kitchen window into the backyard. The ground was blanketed in white from the late night snowfall. Peter noted the snow seemed to mute the sound and colors of the backyard. The single exception was the lone burgundy leaf.

“Do you think the leaf will stay?” Kristen suddenly asked.

He could feel the weight of her question – the hidden complexity. He knew he should answer, but the words would not come. An invisible force held them deep within. She turned into him – her eyes holding his. “Could she see what he wanted to tell her?” he wondered. She said nothing for a few moments and then slowly turned back in his arms.

They watched in silence as the leaf held fast to her branch. All Peter could do was hold on to Kristen as tight as possible.

Michael

Artist: Vincent Van Gogh

First Night

Dylan quickly glanced up and down the cobbled stone street before returning his gaze to the untouched glass of wine. He was certain that Jenny would walk by the cafe on her way home from work – any minute now. On this perfect night, with the full moon in play – she would surely stop when she saw him. Absently, he traced the lip of the glass. ‘Yes, she would surely stop’ he repeated to himself.

Her image suddenly flooded his mind – impossible beauty that always made his heart stop. Those swirling hazel eyes that hypnotized him so easily – that brilliant smile that pulled his breath away. The rhythmic sway of her fingers as she walked – her private dance with the breeze – a dance she invited him to join. He could see her dress flirt across her knees as she reached for his hand. He smiled at the thought of her fluid movement – and yet, he felt a tinge of sadness … of moments lost.

How long had it been since he last saw her? Almost three years. Going back to the states seemed like the right choice then … and now? Did he have regrets? He was unsure. But he knew the real reason he came back to visit Arles – to see her. Had he always known he would return? So many emotions surfacing all at once – his hand slid down around the glass – caressing it with his fingers as he drifted in thought.

He floated back to the first night he saw her…

Michael