Lunch Break

Michael Lebowitz writes about love, memory and another day when things felt easier.

The college was empty that late summer, the heat hard and bright, dust in the air like mist under a brittle cerulean sky.

There she was, walking toward me. I handed her her lunch and we sat down on a bench. After a few minutes we got up, walked over to the path back to the library. Not a sound in the heat, nor a whisper of a breeze. She put the lunch remains in the nearby trash and turned toward me. For no reason at all we began to dance  to a tune only we heard, to a song written long before her mother was born someone once said. The dust swirled from under our feet, we turned and turned again.We knew when the dance was over, we laughed, we kissed a moment and went back to the day’s work. It stayed like that between us for a while and then drifted away. Sometimes to remember it makes me smile, other times, today, it seems so very long ago, as if it had  happened to somebody else. 

Photo Credit:

© All Rights Reserved.  Michael Lebowitz

Recent Michael Lebowitz Articles:

• Tarmac Meditations #205: Images in the Sunrise
• Tarmac Meditations #204: Images From the Road - Smoke Risin'
• Tarmac Meditations #203: Images From the Road
• Tarmac Meditations #202: Images From the Road
• Tarmac Meditations: Haiku # 42