Veronica's Summer Winds

Veronica drove home, watching in her rear view mirror the orange sky following behind her.
She was calm and content, feelings her heart had nearly forgotten how to embrace.
The sand was still scattered on her cheeks and on her feet.
She kicked off her sandals and drove bare foot, wiggling her toes in delight over the pedals.

The music filled her car with loving guitar chords and the wind kissed her face. 
She rolled down her window further and leaned out to hug the wind back.
She was overflowing with love.
For no one and no thing in particular.
Just, love.

Veronica kept smiling as she recalled details of her nights reveries.
Somewhere deep inside, mixed with her skepticism and shattered adoration, a new warmth stirred within her. 
It carried her forward, gliding along hills, possessing her wounds and wrapping them in tranquility. 
The pair of eyes now bouncing around in her mind belonged to a new face.
And that was a comfort.
Each day seemed to carry with it blankets of comfort, extra soft and fuzzy, just the way she liked.

Veronica had inadvertently released a treasure and stumbled upon what seemed an even rarer find.
She reached her hand out to catch the wind, warm and inviting, as it returned her appreciation.
Veronica had felt that continuously.
Reciprocity.
Shared melodies and whispered lyrics sung under lamps that scattered shadows.
And hugs, long squeezes of gratitude, timidly offered for exchanged company.

The summer always carried change in its winds and Veronica shook her head over her forgetfulness.
She finally stopped and stepping out of her car she glanced back at the fragments of orange sky that remained.
They crept up on her, those nights she failed to look up, wanting to skip from sun to stars and miss the stroll.
But it knocked her down, the power of such hope.

And for once, for one blissful breath, Veronica stopped.
The thoughtsdoubtsscheminguncertainty.
And she tasted the oxygen that was all her own.
And placed her hands neatly in her pockets, relinquishing control for how the clouds of her heart would part.
She had seen a glimmer in those eyes, a glimmer like the pair she'd once grown intoxicated on, like a pair she had nearly forgotten.
And the glimmer reminded Veronica that orange skies weren't nearly as rare as she once believed.

So she watched, drinking it in.
And she waited.
And she had never been so thrilled to wait, to see, all she'd yet to believe could be seen.
The grins overpowered her mouth and she laughed.
She laughed loud, long laughs.
And she waited with renewed faith, she waited.