It should be impossible to dream in color. If he dreams, it is in apricot and indigo and always of her. How she looked as a lank-limbed youth or a ripened peach of a partner. But always her; as if no time before their time together ever existed. It did, but his mind has compartmentalized that into the before and all the beautiful rest, is the after.
Just him and her, and a brood of beautiful children that come and go like waves upon the shore of their selfish and perfect love. He cannot think of a singular moment in which they might have ever had a disagreement that did not culminate in shared talk and touches. Their love seemed like a cocoon that settled around them, kept them safe and sheltered. Mandan was okay with that.
Let him be selfish. Let him be safe and sheltered. So as long as she shared their spot in the meadow, their spot in the woods, and their spot by the river. Their moments meant more than life itself as both of them defied age and death. Gray peppered his brown-and-black look more and more, but it made him distinguished, not old and his bones felt as spry as ever and more especially whenever that look came into her eyes and he knew they’d make one more that was some amalgamation of them.
He had combed the Pampas, their own personal haven for the cherished sight of her but she wasn’t there. That didn’t bother him and he never worried or bemoaned the fact that she wasn’t glued to his side. As smitten with one another as they were (and this thought stirred a smile to the surface of his gruff lips), he knew she was never hard to find if he sought her out as he did just now. Letting loose a low and long call of a stallion to his mare, beloved above all else, as he roamed through the sunburnt prairie grass.
Exist, he thought, as if by thought alone he could manifest her out of sunrise and shadow. Sometimes it just worked that way, their love so strong it beckoned them forth at the moment the other’s heart opened wide to thoughts of them. Consumed though, is how he thought of it. By a conflagration of apricot and indigo and passion bundled up in her perfect shape. Just thinking about her like this put a rare pep in his step and be realized then just how happy he truly was with her in his life.
Nothing else mattered but her — Exist; and he called to her again, throwing his head back and sucking in a great big draught of air afterwards that tickled his lungs as much as the idea of her tickled his soul. Mandan was in a great mood today. All because of her!
@[Exist]❤️❤️❤️