Graphic by Sarah McCrimmon
The vacant field was overgrown; filled with rows and rows of Anne’s lace and tall grasses. We approached an empty spot of land in nature’s garden—one that was fully surrounded by heights of beautiful white weeds and green leaves—at which we decided to lay down our picnic blanket and begin to feast on tiny cucumber sandwiches. The sun was beaming, pushing between a sea of fluffy white clouds, and the air was still. It had been a scorching hot afternoon in the Pennsylvania wilderness, but far too sunny to miss out on.
She, always having been the more fashionable of the two of us, wore a pair of round sunglasses with lilac-colored lenses to match her tapered mini skirt and off-white bralette. I, in my usual baggy shorts and polo shirt. Her, with her curly blonde hair that lasted all the way down to her waist, and a few freckles sitting on her nose and rosy cheeks. It was true; she had no idea just how astonishing she really was.
“It really is a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she said to me. You’re beautiful, I thought.
She continued to speak but I didn’t hear a single word that followed. Her big, hazel eyes had set me into a deep trance and I wondered how long this incredible moment would last. Is this what bliss feels like?
She sat with her legs sprawled out, leaning back on her elbows as she spoke to me. Lifting up one arm to take a bite of her finger sandwich, I noticed how delicate and gentle she was in every motion. I still couldn’t release myself from the reverie that was now somehow becoming a reality.
“Are you okay?” she asked, “you’re being overly quiet today.”
The imaginary cloud above my head immediately evaporated into oblivion as I snapped out of my daydream.
“I’m good,” I said bluntly, coming back into reality.
“Are you sure? It just feels as though you’re being distant.”
“Oh,” I stuttered. “You just make me a little nervous.”
“No, I don’t!” She sat up and giggled through the words. “How do I make you nervous?”
There was a pit in my stomach. I didn’t know how to respond without embarrassing myself. I gulped, and said, “You, you are just so beautiful. I can’t seem to figure out why you would choose to hang out with me…”
“Oh, honey.” She reached out her arms, motioning for me to come closer. I obliged, scooting over to her side of the blanket, falling into her arms and resting my head on her chest. “You are the most beautiful person I know.”
As the sun began to disappear that evening, the air grew cooler. I could feel a mist of pollen in the air and start to smell the dampening moss and pine that surrounded us. The blue-jays’ soft songs quickly turned into a harmonious choir made by the evening’s crickets and toads. Such a serene locale, and yet, the forest had been all but quiet after nightfall. She and I lay still, simply listening and observing all of the life that had included us in their home that August twilight. Silently staring at the Earth’s ceiling into a sky full of stars, her body next to mine, there was truly no place I would have rather been.