There are indulgences that satisfy in small pieces.
A single square of rich dark chocolate. Its bitterness perfectly cut with barely detectable sweetness. A sprinkle of sea salt and the hint of citrus meld with the deepest cocoa to envelop the senses.
A single tot of good tequila. A steady pour and the soft clink of ice meeting spirits. The first sip goes down hot, then smooth. The second tickles my throat, and the third is delectable contentment.
Sometimes I wish that more of life could be savoured then put to rest with so little trouble. If I could treat more moments like this – if just a taste were enough to quiet longing – it might make it easier to walk away free of regret.
I fear the unrequited wanting.
One wave will never be enough. After the shock of the first drop, and the tenth tumble in relentless current, you will love it more deeply than you did the day before. Curled up under blankets, you will watch the snow fall heavy and yearn for sand and surf.
One night spent under a canvas of stars will never be enough. You will arrive terrified of the dark, strange howls turning your spine cold, until the calls of beasts become your lullabies. You will leave to be confronted by a city whose silence is unsettling, even as sirens blare and traffic screeches by.
A handful of days in an unfamiliar place will never be enough. There is something about walking amidst a sea of strangers that makes it easier to return to yourself, to abandon the worry that you already knew mattered little. This, and the thrill of turning the next yet to be discovered corner, will beckon you to chase the next adventure again and again.
It would be safer to step around that which you know will not satisfy. I certainly have. I certainly do.
But then I would miss it.
The first time his gaze meets yours and pauses there. You smile without meaning to, before the fragile space between his eyes and yours can be disturbed with nervous chatter. Your breath catches. Stay here, (you say to no one), in the still innocent embrace of this exchange. Blink and it vanishes, leaving some small part of you awakened to the possibility of the next beautiful disaster.
Back in the familiar comfort of home, I stop to take stock of all the tiny cracks bored by those moments I cannot forget. When my eyes grow heavy I will visit the waves again. I will be warmed by the gentle glare of a delta sunset. I will eagerly cross an unfamiliar street. I will feel the weight of his hand in mine. Broken open by all that has slipped through my fingers I will find sleep, whole at last.