I am taking Belle & Sebastian’s above advice.
I’ve been thinking on earlier days, before we were a “we.” We ran on the periphery of the same crowd, bumping into each other at parties and always saying that we should hang out sometime. When we did, it was Something. There was such an easiness in the way we were able to talk to each other, about stupid things and serious things alike, right from the start and that formed the basis of a really beautiful friendship. You were open, and you made me feel like I could be open, like my thoughts and opinions and dreams were safe with you. That was so much of what made me fall in love with you.
Two Januaries ago, we had a day off from class and I forced you to go on an adventure with me. We drove north, just looking for something that had promise. Camano Island, yes, that sounded very intriguing. We drove out, out, out, toward and the water and toward the sun that was slowly going to sleep on the edge of the horizon. When we got to the beach front, we stepped outside the car and walked to the water, waves rippling with the gentleness of a sleeping infant’s breathing. You had explained to me earlier how light worked, how it refracted to make colors; the sun was nearly behind the mountains and left in its wake warm glowing yellows and vibrant sparkling blues and purples.
We were so quiet then. An afternoon of flowing conversation was silenced by this beauty we saw in our surroundings, and, I believe, in ourselves and what we could be. It left me breathless.
I still feel that breathlessness because I still see those brilliant blues and yellows, and you, with your hair grown longer and your hood pulled up over your head, the man I knew I would love from that moment on. We didn’t kiss then, and even though it may have been the perfect opportunity, so picturesque and magical as it was, I’m glad we didn’t because the way everything happened was perfect, in my mind, and I wouldn’t change anything.