Saturday mornings were mellow days that started and ended with your body pressed against mine. Some Saturdays we rolled out of bed to walk the cobblestone path towards Welton's Pond. In the spring we wore Pj's and a light jacket. Fall, hats and university sweatshirts. Winter, what we called bear jackets supplemented with a cup of hot cocoa. I can still hear our echoing footsteps greeting stretching trees and yawning birds.
So far away from the hustle of the city we were able to stop. Remember that time you pulled me towards a log encircled by wild flowers? I sat down and you started pacing. Nearly ten minutes passed with you blabbering about Henry's inability to keep a schedule. I had no clue who Henry was, and I was on the verge of snapping some sense into you when it happened. Suddenly you were on one knee, a modest ring lying in your sweaty palm.
But my favorite moment happened two years later. You chased me into a circle of trees. Before you had a chance to grab my hand I placed the rattle there first. I remember how the light caught your eyes, spreading from your irises to dance across your face. I don't need a photo to remember your raised brow, or your mouth opening and closing before words could escape. At any given moment I can still feel the wind whipping the edges of my T-shirt as you whirled me in your arms. The purity of our laughter warmed my heart, and I knew for certain I'd live to see you gray. As your whoops filled the air, I believed we stumbled onto perfection. How else could I feel? We owned time. We owned life. We owned love.
Continued in part 2