Its the first day that summer gave in. The air is undemanding, not oppressing. The sun is like the perfect temperature between the covers; just like the ones we would have rolled out of this morning. The coffee pot would be on like it always is when you are here. We would have taken the top off the Jeep and hurled ourselves into to the countryside. My hair would be flying a thousand different directions, but I know you love it, so I would resist pulling it up. Every now and then I could have caught your smell as the air swirled around the open car. Your smell would brings a smile to my lips, cause lighting to flood through veins, and a weakness to knock at my knees. The baseball cap you would wear hides your eyes, but I already know they are a clear blue, as fresh as the sky we are chasing. Today we would have sung to the radio together, and picked out our farm house along the way. Or maybe today we would've just held hands, balanced on the center console, in the serenity of us.
We would have gone to the range.
We would have been competitive.
Our fingers would have brushed as we counted the holes in the paper circles.
We would of had fun.
We would have been together.
We wouldn't have done anything in particular.
We would have done everything.
Today would have been the perfect day for us.
But you aren't here.
You are an impossible number of miles away from me.
So I guess today its the perfect day for me to wish you were home.
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