The Best Thing In Life Was Him

Georgia Peach, Twice Removed.

February 1977

I could never pin down the time but now I can. I remember being at a motel in a little town off the capeside. We had decided to drive all the way to Kennicot but because of certain things waylaid by Love's lady luck, we ended 580 north of our destination. It was early spring and the flowers were budding, a vibrant, fancy green hue. Gorgeous when in the picture, any picture of Aron! He was silly and fun that week we spent alone, holed up all time, in our secret fortress. The fortress had never been penetrated by any but Aaron. He was a master, a super flatterer and a word to the wise, up meant sideways to him, that's just how he was. A luckier girl never will live again, I promise you. He flattered her hair, copious blond length, her time, how precious she was, with no clothes at all, a fearless dance of meaning the only thing that ever mattered. He mention her cleavage when speaking of the beauty of nature, he flattered her voice, her lips, her tongue, even her teeth got some recognization. All heralded to the sun, the moon. Pretty little mouth, certainly can do some damage, my god, how she rolls her eyes in delight and with the thought of It all. Freedom is just another word for a buildup of tension. Trapline was set, hook and sinker. And look what it caught, a ultimate feminine wile, a minxy way of shaking those hips, all fine tuned to a tee. It is certain my main thing these past weeks, I like it, I love it, I want some more of it. The whispered shush of the gentle wind let me live again. He never knew how I loved him, just never had a clue. The sweetest thing I had encountered in this long arduous life, a real winner. Dressed in blues and greens like the gallant gopher in Raymond's place. Stitched and snitched. Here lies a lesser man, eh. Never seen one like him, not even close. He had time to sit with me and just talk of nice things and nothingness and the whispered secrets we held against each other in the dark. Always a pleasant surprise to touch again his face and find it makes me shiver and gasp for air. Aaron was my mighty hero, my prince, my king, my joker, my jack of spades. He never forgot to always ask me of the love I held in my heart for him. I always said, my love for you is unending and so special, Aaron. He believed me because I showed him again and again. And again. He was always in love with me, my smile, my sighs and slightly muffled moans at times, my spirit and my soul. I was his princess, his queen, his slave, his harem. All that love, wasted and thrown away. But I always have my memories, nothing could ever touch that. It was enough just to have that. Better to have lost at the game of love than never to have made love at all. Silly love songs, how dear, my heart of love. He was always a surprise to me, with his laughter and good humor and that happy way about him. He was a solid keeper, you know. And why he went away is a trick of the gods, some punishment for some old forgotten sin. Lady luck ran out the door that day. She was not waiting outside it, like for Santana, no way. No one else could ever match his smile, his love and devotion, his ravage hunger for anything new and better built, a rip more solid. He left this world better off because he was so loving and caring for anyone, everyone, oh, and me! I was his shooting star, you know. The pot at the end of his rainbow, he always said as he changed and sifted, the love between us gaining altitude and momentum in a six second jag. Rock of ages, my almighty God, my lover, my love. He had plenty of love for me, his mind, his muse, his reason to get naked at least 18 times a day, or so he tried insisting! Most times I just laid back and enjoyed the ride. Wind whipping through the tunnels, hedging near the sails. He loved me always with full speed ahead. I always miss him for that, every day. I never will forget the one time he laid his head, his long dark hair plaiting itself to my breasts, like superglue. The rush of the moment was always time spent in a delighted daze, bewildered, bedazzled, all sorts of things. Aaron, one so true. Sadness only since you have been laid to rest. Gone to meet your maker. Left this world for a better place, they say. I seen the park where my brother commited suicide yesterday. It was a surprise, it snuck up me like a waiting time bomb, tick tick ticking. The way of tne world left me high and dry, left me looking in the streets. I always will wish for you the best things in the this death of yours. Sad but true. I just have to face it head on. Read the writing on the wall, call Jilly for a good time. She is always ready! Sure, sure, probably not true at all. More like a easy peasy twice as squeezy.

He needed a lover like me, a rogue captain, a spanish inquistion. Set in the history of the ruffians and battleaxes. It was spot on. Aaron made me learn not to be afraid anymore. He taught me the irder of the phoniex, word for word. He showed me how to catch a frog when we were about in between the lake and land. He taught me how to dream big and in technicolor. I showed him exactly what I wanted and how I wanted it done. He was a fast learner, a straight A student, always going for extra credit. He never forget anything I told him about the secrets of my desire and my destiny. He kept it tl himself. I would always tryThe day sent forth a miserable cry from within. From all four corners, from every island in the Pacific. Love was a game, you see. There was a winner and a loser in this game. No wonder love was considered a battle ground, a war. It hurts to be on the losing end of this battle. Ouch, I want my mommy. Too bad she wasn't the referee. I never heard about bad things, not first-hand. I seen somethings, bad things, like murder. Oh, how I wounded myself in this battle, I knew it from the start. Why didn't I try to stop when I simply could. Turn and walk away from it unscathed. Too easy, eh. I hear things about the bombs and explosives, but still I stay. Waiting to lose it all. Why is life so hard to live sometimes? Regrets and all apologies. Me, I never even tried to get away. I will always regret not saying anything in my defense. I could have won then, if I had. The day you came back to stay was the end. Had to be. The end. Sacra bleu! Freedom is just another word for losing. I lost it that day, my composure, my hidden life, my object of desire, my longing, my strife. Dear Fear, I feel I know you. Like we met before, on a crowded bus or a crowded ball field. Was that in 1987? Or was it 88? Aron pigeon-holed me into saying I loved him everyday, at least thirteen times before going to bed. He surely did. It was the best time of my life ever, the only time I ever knew. And I let him be aron. He lived like aron, a silver and pearl throne, a few royal diamonds, 200 bushels of gold. It was a giving thing, you know, like a fruit basket or a honey ham. Fresh from the farm. Born to be alive! He made me feel like I was honey and sugar all wrapped up in one. He said you know what you like, baby, what you love. I did. It was all him, nude, dressed, in pajamas, it made no difference to me. Fat, skinny, bald or with hair down to there. He was my love, either way. He knew it! He said, jessie, I sure love everything about you, your messy blond hair, your sense of style, your choice of music, your wild wide-eyed take on things left unsaid, your impeccable timing and your ability to make the right choice everytime. The kids sure had fun with you in charge of Flag Day. Pirates! Never knew a pirate could wear such scantily clad outfit.