Touriste

Brian Reinbolt - psicosismark@yahoo.com

Do you remember that day?

The one where you stood by the window of the balcony and looked at the street below you as the sun shined down it's brightness upon you?

I remember it well, it was an old apartment with white painted exterior covering its old age and even though the carpet was dimly red and the vintage glass windows stained from decades of neglect I still respected what you added to the place or better yet I respected the place and the time, in France circa the nineteen sixties any apartment was considered a treasure and still is to this day, you can't get a better quality home with such history and craftsmanship attached to it.

Do you remember what you did after walking in from the balcony and adjusting your skirt?

Well let me refresh your memory, you sat down on the floor and began watching the boxing match on television, not a flat screen and certainly not your top of the line fancy bells and whistles ordeal, no this was a basic silver oval set with two tennis balls on top to keep grandfather happy, you know how he loved tennis.

As you tried on clothing throwing it on and off repeatedly until you found the dress that would suffice I couldn't help but admire your stunning beauty from the corner of the room as the light reflected off of you just perfect.

After putting on your best hat you wanted to go to town square as to not spoil such an attractive day and me being the type to never refuse a pretty girls request, we did and while we walked the street I couldn't help but look about the giant and narrow buildings above me, buildings with designs as if a small child built them with his imagination and made them as tall and thin as he wished, despite being worn with time they had a youthful embrace about them.

I looked back and for a split second thought that I had lost you but you only wondered over to the fountain pond where the children sailed miniature boats to the delight of parents who chose to sit on the nearby benches and engage in deep philosophical conversation, I'm not sure what they uttered amongst each other but I didn't care because I had no worries, I was with you and as you saw your reflection in the pond below I would be lying if I didn't think the image staring back at you made you perplexed.

I pointed to my watch and never frown you ran over to me and we fed the birds on the cobblestone street admiring the sun go down.

On our way back to the apartment as the street lights led our way I knew nothing lasts forever and it was time to let you go, I saw the moon's reflection in the window belonging to the store I dropped you off at, you smiled back still as pretty as could be and I shed a tear knowing it could be the last time we would see each other, I knew I had to get back to grandfather because after all he was the one lending his hand for this trip and without him I wouldn't be able to recall the last time I saw Paris.