Still I believe you knew what I knew.
The view from the bridge was a beautiful morning, lifting a city into a mountain of green and the sunlight of God. I floated across the river on my way to where you were waiting to say hello and goodbye.
Had I lost you where I found you, the cross on the mountain a prayer into the sky never heard except by those who needed it?
I almost didn’t see the traffic stopping, the memory still in my eyes so I wasn’t looking ahead. No damage was done and without taking my eyes off the road again, I followed your directions and found my way.
It wasn’t a detour through Chinatown and a few more moments with you tuning the instrument of your heart to play with the attention of mine. Just a quick bypass of reality, between us an early lunch of Vietnamese chicken and too many years since my youth, our conversation reassuring and ridiculous, though you probably didn’t realize how I felt. Or if you did, you were kind enough to let me be fooled. And linger.
As long as you were speaking of love and doubts, long after lunch was finished and the weekend lost forever. Until it was too late to delay any longer, leaving you leaving me.
©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.
Reblogged this on Kristen Brewer Post.
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Thank you for reblogging, Kristen! I am very flattered that you enjoyed it that much.
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I have a daughter who, on impulse alone it would seem, up and left Vancouver and moved to Montreal on January 1st. Smack in the middle of 3 months of French classes, she’s now happier than I ever imagined or expected, complete with Separatiste boyfriend, while my experiences of being there more mirror yours (wistful smile). In the end, though, I miss the bagels more than the relationship! Thank you for this poignant glimpse.
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I came back to read this again. It is so beautiful and wistful… a tad sad too. TY!
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Thank you for your return and your lovely comment. I really appreciate it!
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I love this expression – “our conversation reassuring and ridiculous.” It’s poignant how those feelings often go together. The guitarist sounds amazing!
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Thank you so much, Barbara! I was rather pleased when that came to me. It did really hit the mark about how I felt. And yes, this musician is exceptional…classically trained but is repertoire is very eclectic.
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Oh, Diane, this narrative poem of the meeting in Montreal is so wistfully sad and loving all at the same time–like the Blue Flag Iris in front of the Cross! I had a reunion over a meal with an old college crush once like this! This has helped me put that memory into a much more peaceful place in my heart! All such encounters end up being good, I think, in the long run. They tell us we are real and that we can love and cherish and ponder and then go on our way in peace.
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I so love when something I write resonates with another…evokes a memory…a feeling…especially as it might help to heal a hurt or regret. Writing it certainly did that for me. I love your comment here, and this is worth repeating…
‘All such encounters end up being good, I think, in the long run. They tell us we are real and that we can love and cherish and ponder and then go on our way in peace.’
And I echo that with all my heart! Love and hugs!
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Resonating with this, Diane – there is so much here, reading the words, and between the lines. Fills me with a similar memory….. lovely!
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So very glad it meant something to you, Betty…and yes, there is a lot between the lines. Hope it evoked more pleasure than regret for you. Thank you!
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The imagery is amazing…you feel this beauty and sadness and sense of loss….your words have a power….they come alive…epic.
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Thank you so much for your lovely comment…I am so pleased the piece affected you so. It means a lot to me!
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Diane, what makes this short short story is the language. You condense the words until the reader has to read through it twice to catch all the nuances. This must be a memory. It is sad on the surface, but is not really sad in its tone. There is a loveliness that dances through the words as the tale chagrins itself into a tale of loss and perhaps a touch of remembered gladness, or nostalgia. This is good work.
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Yes, Thomas, you have certainly caught its nuances and essence, and that pleases me so much. It is a memory. And you are right about its sadness (as there always is with leaving anyone who connects with our core), but it certainly was written with ‘remembered gladness’ being its main ‘theme’. Thank you so much for your careful and complementary comment. I value your opinion greatly.
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Diane, how did you know I love Spanish guitar??!! I could practically see Flamenco dancers. I didn’t know the beautiful iris is Quebec’s flower–so so gorgeous! And I really wanted to hear more of the story… That cross must be something to see, in person! What a great post–thank you.
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Hi Caddo. Glad you enjoyed the video…and this fellow can play anything from harpsichord to lute to sitar to electric guitar… “More” of the story may be told yet…at least filtered through my imagination. Montreal is a wonderful city…I was given a tour of the churches…something I will never forget. Thank you!
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Hi DIane
such a beautiful encounter, and so sad too. Lovely! Also the image of the iris and the cross. I will check out the music tomorrow 🙂
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Hi Ina! Thank you! It is certainly a ‘did-that-really-happen?” memory…mostly with gratefulness for a wonderful chance taken and never regretted. And Montreal is a wonderful wonderful city! (And I’m not much of a city-lover…)
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Hello Diane,
I’ve always wanted to go to Montreal. I’m glad you posted the spanish guitar video. very nice..
Gary
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Thanks, Gary! Hope you are well.
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