Of Towers, Summer, and Oaks

He had a way of looking at me as if he were looking though me. In his gaze, my reality faded, and I was transformed. Under his stare I felt like the butterfly being released from the confines of its prison. His arms wrapped around me like the warmth of the sun drying out newborn wings. His soft lips were like gentle breezes lifting me to flight. His nurturing touches my life sustaining floral nectar. I would soar in flight deep within the blue-green of his eyes. The summer was too fleeting and the joy would last but a moment and way too soon the chill of winter would come blowing in leaving me without refuge. I would fall to Earth, dropped back into reality, abandoned.

In his arms I was many things; goddess, queen, saint, and sinner. There was nothing that was off limits. No proposition too outlandish. A great buffet was laid out before me, all for the taking. I drank deeply from wells of passion. Ate of forbidden fruit savoring its sweet bouquet. I meandered through secret gardens never thinking of the consequences or the price.

There were long winters in between the days of basking in warm sunlight. The winters were unbearable, chilling me to the very core of my soul. This was the price for my brief flight, the consequence for drinking deeply of passion, the fruit souring in my stomach. Unable to withstand another blast of winter, I fled seeking solace for my weary, weather beaten heart.

He was a tower, always there, never yielding, waiting and ready to shelter me. A gentle knock would grant me entry and safety. I took my place in his chamber. There was a comfort in the simplicity of his love. No mystery to be solved, all laid open and exposed. I relished the comfort I found in laying against his rough surface. Enjoying the warmth of his hearth, he kept the blustery winds from freezing my fragile soul.

One day, while still barricaded in the shelter of the tower, the summer breeze gently slipped in, taunting me. I wanted to go out and bask in its warmth. Eat of the fruit, soar in the blue-green skies, drink from the refreshing wells of passion, and partake of the great banquet. My heart pounded at the thoughts of wandering through the secret garden, inhaling deeply of its musky scents.

Summer had always been with me, in my dreams how often I had walked in the garden, drank and ate from the banquet. I thought the memory would fade in time, but it never left me. Sometimes, I felt as if he were reading my thoughts, he would watch as I gazed out the tower windows, knowing I missed the life I left behind.

Memory has a way of exemplifying the good times and dimming the bad. All I could think about was the sweetness I had missed, my heart cried to be free. My sensibility warned me to stay safely in the tower, but my heart won out. Trembling and taking a deep breath I crossed the threshold, intoxicated by the summers gentle caresses.

With open arms and soft kisses he welcomed me. I yielded to the persuasive, tempting pressure of his skillful fingertips. With sheer pleasure and delight I drank deeply of the well as if I had never drank from it before or would never drink of it again. Eagerly, I ate of the fruit savoring every bite as if it were my last. I gorged myself stuffing every delight into my mouth, trying every morsel of the seemingly endless banquet. At long last, I was spent and blissfully satisfied. I rested in the long, fragrant, grasses of the garden, basking in the blue-green light.

I returned to the tower, disheveled, but my heart singing a summer melody. There were no questions asked but I knew eventually there would be a reckoning. I could not continue to rely on the safety of the tower and bask in the sunlight. I had to make a choice.

I waited, my heart desired to soar in blue-green skies. My sensibility longed for the firm foundation beneath my feet. I felt trapped and caught in the middle, between desire and survival. I knew it wouldn't be long before the gale of winter crept in from the north, but was there was no way for me to soar in the shadow of the tower.

The days that followed were spent in deep contemplation. During that time, the summer breezes cooled. I waited for the invitation to walk in the lush garden and take my rightful place at the head of the banquet, but there was none. Slowly, I began to realize, perhaps many shared the banquet. The thought chilled me worse than the winters ever had.

I sat by the hearth in an attempt to absorb its warmth, trying to thaw my frozen heart. He tried to help me, but he could not comprehend my agony. In stony silence, he waited, watching as I cowered in his shadow, shivering against the cold.

Time passed and I began to understand my relationship with the tower. Even though I had a fleeing affair with the summer breezes, the tower had always stood tall and unyielding, always ready and waiting for my return. Slowly, I began to fully understand his ways. His ways were quiet, not flamboyant like the summer. In the stony gray of his fortress were hidden the hues of the rainbow. The warmth his hearth provided burned longer and hotter than any rays from the summer sun, it was never fleeting or brief. The foundation was buried in the depths of the earth. He was centered and could withstand any storm.

He never gave up on me, even when I had given up on myself. He waited patiently for my return and for my love. He didn't push or put on a brilliant, showy display to gain my affections. His strength was his only display. I didn't know if I could ever give him my heart or if it had been whisked away by the summer winds. He had proven worthy, but was I? Would I stand like an oak the next time the summer breezes blew or would I bend like a reed yielding to the breezy assault?

The seasons changed and winter had yielded way to spring. Summer was close at hand. The summer winds gently tapped upon my door, offering invitation. I stood at the threshold, its tempting fragrance and caress assaulting my senses. Something had happened over the long winter months, I grew. I became the oak, my limbs reaching high above the lush summer gardens, my roots reaching deep wrapped tightly around the foundation of the tower. At long last, I had found my home, far above the flashy onslaught of summer and my roots too deep to be frozen by the cold.