I do, at this time of year.
They used to come screaming at me, full force, like a redlining 911 headed right for me, whining down the autobahn.
Until I had the revelation.
Now the phantoms are better behaved. But they visit yet.
I remember you running back to the car through the woods, an apparition of beauty waving your panties above your head in glee and anticipation.
I can still hear the roar of snowmobiles while waking one morning, then the next being roused by motorcycles thundering past an open window.
The dark shadow of my unthinking, uncaring self that Christmas Eve continues to haunt me. My heart still half believes that was the beginning of the end.
The magical mirage that was Malaga will always stay with me. We were so happy.
The apartment high overlooking the water that would be our last.
Yes the demons are better behaved. They’re silent now. But so devious. This year they ambushed when I least expected, two weeks after the email.
It seems they will never tire of reminding me where I have been.