of moonlight and memories

She couldn’t sleep. The alarm clock showed 1.30am.She got up and dragged her feet to the kitchen sink and got herself a glass of water. She stood near the kitchen window and drew the curtains aside. Moonlight slowly filtered in as if it were a thief. She looked out at the trees and the sky with its stars which twinkled at her as if to say “can’t sleep, eh?”

Moonlight brought back memories-memories of first love and brown eyes. She had not thought of him for years. But sleepless nights are when memories haunt; when “the might-have-beens” come knocking.

It was a moonlit night when he had kissed her; her first kiss. It was divine. She was just 17.She had ran back home and had not slept a wink. She had felt elated, giddy and drunk with joy. Every few minutes she would touch her lips as if to trace the memory of his lips. Now 35, sitting in the moonlight at the kitchen table…she touched her lips, and smiled. Now she couldn’t think of anything which made her that giddy!

She wondered if she was being unfaithful to her husband .She could hear him snoring gently. In her romantic mind she felt thinking of someone else in moonlight was more dangerous than anything physical.

But then, can one erase beautiful memories? Is it even feasible to forget some one who long ago had made you happy just because you are with someone you now love?

She went back to the bed room…looked at the silhouette of her sleeping husband…smiled at her thoughts…and wondered “maybe in his sleep…he too is dreaming of his first love”.

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What made me write this story?

It’s a combination of many things-it’s my way of taunting all the people who were shocked by my last post; have been watching too many French movies off late; and a conversation about fidelity I had a long time ago-how do we define it? And I wondered if one were to think of their past love with fondness would it amount to being unfaithful…so the story.