The Exquisite Touch of a Breeze

A touch of the wind on my cheek, senses and memories re-awakened

I was standing outside the other day when a light breeze came up, a breeze that brushed my cheek for a second, a moment in time. 

How much power there was in that gentle wind, that slight breath of air blowing on my face. Nature’s touch that does not discriminate because of age or shape or size or time. 

In that moment, I was transported back.

Back in time. Remembering summers with the warm sun on my face and breezes carrying scents from summer. Flowers close by. Suntan lotion lathered on bodies lying all around. The salty scent of the ocean. Food vendors with their delicious scents beckoning. The sound of laughter of families and children playing. Waves crashing into the shore. 

The feel of the sun slightly burning my face. The breeze cooling my skin. Feeling all the joys and presence of life around me and within me. 

So very much within me. 

Feeling myself so alive in my skin.

Remembering my youthful sensuality back then heightened by adolescent waves of hormones. The future was ahead of me. My body was young and with so much time to look forward to. Enjoying this one beautiful day of summer. Free. Safe. Happy.

The memories came flooding back to this face, this face now 70 years old. This face that still can feel the gentle breeze. My skin still reacts to it, enjoys its caress. My body still feels its warmth and delight. 

This body, not touched as much these days by others, still feels the sensuality of that gentle caress from the wind. That warm embrace from the sun. And every cell rises to grab it all. Remembers the delight of it all. 

Body memory. Not forgotten, if perhaps faded and out of sight most of the time these days. Yet in this moment, re-awakened and quivering with the delight of recognition. The delight of remembrance. The joy of having all of this within me still, even if no one else sees it anymore. 

I feel it still. And it makes me cry, both with poignant sadness and joyful passion. I am still alive. My skin still feels touch. My senses still react and rise to meet life. No one else may see it. No one else may recognize it anymore. 

But I felt it then and I feel it still. And I can tremble yet with the joy of the memories and the still exquisite feel of that touch from nature. 

That whisper of a caress that surprised me, one that I didn’t know that I needed so very much.

Life and its memories and senses are within us still. All it may take is a gentle touch, a light caress, a warm breeze reminding us that we are still so very much alive, so very much here. Still so alive to the passion and delight and invitations of life. 

Still here to feel the breeze on our cheeks. And to cry and to smile at it all.