The Dreamlife of Angels

I dreamed you last night. You wore more faces than just yours, but I recognized your hands. They were strong and gentle and held mine so securely just when I thought I might cry. You smiled and brought my fingers to your lips as we climbed into a car to drive me back home to sunshine after a long, cold winter that has settled in my bones. You turned on the radio and we sang along and you didn't ask me what was wrong when I started crying. You just held my hand a little tighter and told me it was okay to cry -- and that everything was going to be fine, because you would take care of me. And I believed you.

And when we stopped in Virginia and walked on the beach, you let me yell at the waves and sigh at the clouds, and you cradled my head against your chest and held me in your warmth. You told me you admired the way I let myself love that little girl even when I knew I was leaving her behind. You told me it took a strong person to let their own heart break just to love someone so freely. I told you it hurt like hell and you just kissed my face and let me cry some more.

When I woke up this morning, there were grains of sand stuck to the palms of my hands and my face bore traces of salt and kisses. I reached for your hand again to hold mine, but you were gone. You were a dream that angels would envy... but you were just a dream after all.

The End

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