That Summer: A Moment with Bill Reflection about First Love
Thanks to Garth Brooks
His lyrics are the inspiration for this creative writing piece.
“I often think about that summer
The sweat, the moonlight and the lace
And I have rarely held another
When I haven't seen her face
And every time I pass a wheat field
And watch it dancing with the wind
Although I know it isn't real
I just can't help but feel
Her hungry arms again”
From the song “That Summer.”
A song about hunger. A song about carnal pleasures. A song about two people quenching each other’s thirst, and a song about the memories of actions that have a profound effect on us as we grow older and, hopefully, wiser.
Sit back while I muse about that summer.
A cover of the song but it will do
I Often Think About That Summer, the Sweat, the Moonlight and the Lace
Is there such a summer in your memory?
It begins with a subtle glance across the campfire, delivered with the force of a high-velocity round from a sniper’s rifle. A tilting of the head, a flick of the hair, equal emphasis given to coyness and disinterest, and yet the animal is surfacing, staking the territory, declaring to one and all that in this time, in this place, that man (or woman) is mine.
It is a dance we all do, mimicking some 50s romance, Doris Day meets Rock Hudson, or choose your actors to play our parts, or we will play their parts, it makes no difference once the sighs become audible, the breathing changes, the heart pumps faster and dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin do their biological interaction.
We calculate the moment of approach, measure our words carefully, take our appointed places on the stage, and hope to hell the curtain does not fall until we have tasted the intoxicant we so desperately want….and then….
Buttons unbutton, zippers unzip, clothes are tussled and pulled, yanked and fumbled, actions we perform daily but which suddenly seem so complicated. The first tentative hand upon skin, the sharp intake of breath, the wondrous textures and scents, dizziness and out-of-body experience of mind-blasting, heart-exploding, toss your cares to the wind and inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, slower, slower and…collapse.
There will be more than enough time for doubts, concerns, and recriminations, but for that one moment, that exquisite stoppage of time, there is only a coupling of legendary status, to be cherished and remembered always.
And I Have Rarely Held Another When I Haven’t Seen Her Face
For the sake of self-preservation, let me state that is not true today. Whenever I hold my wife, I think of no one else besides my wife, but….
Who among you does not remember your first lover? Is it possible not to? The years have rapidly accumulated since those first tentative moments with my first love. Dianna King was her name, and I still, forty-five years later, remember her face, her smile, and that magical moment when we came together as one.
Frightened for sure. Confused most definitely. We all preen our feathers that first time, casting fear, and fate, to the winds, hoping to get it right, to not embarrass ourselves, to somehow be all that we can be. We’ve read the books. We’ve had discussions with friends. We try to prepare ourselves for any eventuality, but nothing, and I mean nothing, can prepare you for that first sexual rite of passage.
So we fumble, we bumble, we question every move, hoping against hope that we will please the other, and be pleased in return, and wondering, when it is over, if we will ever again experience anything as beautiful.
And Every Time I Pass a Wheat Field
Silently the memories come upon us. They are not bidden and yet they appear. What triggers them? The profile of a stranger passing by on the sidewalk….the certain way another sways her hips, or something more vague, like the scent of lavender in the wind, or a sudden summer shower….whatever it may be, we are transported back to that bedroom, that sofa, that back seat, and we are young again, wild again, dancing a dance as old, and as beautiful, as life.
And Watch It Dancing with the Wind
And the wheat blows in the wind, and our hair blows as we time-travel to another place, another time, and we smile, and we nod, and yes, we feel melancholy, for those times are gone, that magic will never be repeated, those hungers are long-satiated, and that is as it should be.
For children grow, cast aside their childhood toys, and seek that which is more rewarding. Where once it was enough to tumble frantically for ten minutes of satisfaction, now we embrace the substitute of life-long companionship. Where once we played a game of frantic courtship, now we relish the sublime pleasure of holding hands in the park on a summer day, and moonlight strolls with our best friend and yes, lover.
Although I Know It Isn’t Real
Is it possible to be real and yet unreal? There is no doubt that it happened and yet, when remembered, it seems a surreal experience. We do not recall with any accuracy but rather as one gazing upon a scene through frosted glass. What were the words spoken? What were the actions taken that led to that moment? The facts shimmer on our mind’s projection screen like heat waves in a desert, and we can never really be sure if it happened the way we remember….but….what will never be in doubt are the feelings associated with that first time.
I Just Can’t Help but Feel Her Hungry Arms Again
Such is the power of the mind, that actions taken decades ago can immediately engulf us, and cause a physical chain reaction that is at once powerful and yet peaceful.
Close your eyes. Travel back to that time. Do you see it? Do you feel it? Is there beauty associated with it? Pain? Embarrassment? The passage of youth….the loss, for sure, of innocence….a door that, once opened, can never be closed again.
We have moved on from there. There have been many times since when body met body, need engulfed need, and we listened to the driving beats of our heart and desires….and each time is, for sure, wondrous….but….
There will never again be a time like
That summer.
2014 William D. Holland (aka billybuc)
