Memory

The Lazienki Palace, aka the Palace on the Isle. Warsaw, Poland.

I'm walking through the air, scented with cherry blossoms and sea salt. The thin material of a pale watercolour scarf dances across the skin of my arms and back, while soft silk caresses my legs and torso in a loose-fitted outfit. Laughter can be heard around me, as the ladies in my company enjoy a joke my sister makes. We pause by a column to look out across the pond in our extensive gardens. 

Somewhere ahead, we know our menfolk are waiting for us, likely with a picnic set up in the oak grove on the west of west end of the property. I lean on the column, pausing a moment longer than the rest, to breathe in the spring. Soon, the forced politeness of hostessing will take over, and I won't be able to breathe so deeply until this evening, once the fragrance of sunlight and happiness has passed for the day. 

"Are you alright?" One of our guests asks, concerned that perhaps the sun or the heat is too much for me. I smile at her and open my eyes. 

"Quite. I was simply enjoying this moment of peace."

My sister suggests they move along, and we will catch up in a moment. She lays her head on my shoulder, and I know she feel it too- the nostalgia of a time and place long cut from us. Despite our best efforts, our eden on earth came out as a mockery to the original, though no one knows but us. 

I kiss her forehead, and we walk hand in hand down the path, setting aside the wisps of fading memory in favor of a joyful afternoon in spring.