That kind of day

It's an odd spring day today here in NYC and the wind and the sun together are bringing back memories for some reason. Lazing around on the deck of a boat moored in City Island--it'd be too windy for sailing, so we'd just lay around, John would tinker with the engine or other things. We'd make love below decks, with the waves mirroring our movements, the warm sun streaming down through the open hatch over the double bunk.

A nice memory.

There was a flash of an even earlier memory, of laying on the grass in the park across from our house, or maybe even our own lawn, watching the wind blow through the trees and the flowers and the bushes and the grass and trying to think of how to describe how I felt, but not having the words. I still don't. Except I know I didn't want days like that, moments like that to end. I remember feeling deep sadness when I noticed the light changing, the sun moving toward the horizon. Melancholy, that's the word for that, at least.