Our Spot

 

I can see our spot from here. Just down the hill, it seems small and far away, like when you look through the wrong end of binoculars; but I keep walking, sure that I will get there when I get there and that the journey can be equally as beautiful as the destination.

I take slow, steady steps, feeling the soft verdant grass fold beneath my bare feet. I leave my shoes at home when I come here. I want to steep in every sensation. My whole self begins to ground, from my toes to my soul to my mind.

A gentle breeze tickles my cheek and sends my hair fluttering around in wisps. I close my eyes and smile. I giggle with pleasure. You are here.

The sun glows through my eyelids, lighting up my inner world of typical shadows. I feel the light travel through me. It flows like molten gold to fill every corner of my head, down my neck, out to my fingertips, into my belly, and through my legs to my toes. I am light. I am warmth. I know this feeling. It is Love welcoming me.

I open my eyes and start to sashay and twirl as I make my way down into the valley. Dance bubbles up in moments like this, and I can’t help but let it out, like a song that’s beats out through my body instead of my voice.

I can smell the hyacinth bushes that sit in little bunches throughout the valley. The fragrance mixes with the lavender that’s shooting up among the wildflowers. Bluebird shaded forget-me-nots and delicate Queen Anne’s lace wind together through the tall field grass. I stretch out my fingers as wide as they will go and brush them along the tops.

As I get closer, I can see you waiting for me by our tree. I start to run. Padded patches of moss replace the grace beneath my feet. Our tree, the great weeping willow, towers above. She casts her shade over our sitting spot, a mossy hollow at her base, just wide enough for two.

You reach your arms out wide, knowing what I’m about to do. I take my last few steps and leap into your arms. You catch me with unparalleled strength and gentleness. I nuzzle my face into your neck, glad to be home.

Setting me down, you grab my hand, and we walk to the little hollow. We sit down in the springy moss and lean back against our faithful willow. Pockets of light flicker through the waving fronds, each leaf taking its turn to glow and dim like an array of firefly foliage.

I lean my head on your shoulder. We sit. We breathe. We notice the beauty around us and take time to just be.

I start to trace the ridges on the root next to me. My finger bumps along: forward, forward, slight left, sharp right, forward, down. When I reach the end going into the ground, I slide back up to start again.

After a while, you stand up. I hold up my hands so you can pull me to my feet. I don’t need you to, but I love doing things together.

We wander a few yards away to the edge of the river. I can almost taste the crisp, cool water before I’ve even touched it. I kneel and cup a clear pool in my hands to drink. The water satisfies a deeper thirst than I knew I had. It’s all I want, yet one drink is enough.

You tenderly pat my back between my shoulder blades and give me a knowing look. Of course, the river is yours. This whole place is yours, yet you let it be ours. Could anyone love me more?

I stand back up, stretching out my legs. I watch your gaze turn toward the rocks strewn about the water. They start small, only big enough to walk across on your tip toes. But the smooth gray stones grow as you move toward the middle: they fit one foot, then two feet, then there’s room to stand together, and finally you reach a boulder with enough space to sit side by side.

We make our way out to the sit rock. I teeter and wobble on the water-washed path, but you seem to float with unspeakable grace. Once we make it to the middle, I sit criss cross and you settle with your feet dangling in the stream.

You know why I’ve come here. You know what I need. Here’s where I remember. We watch as ivory toy sailboats float toward us, each one whispering a new thought that spins through my head. I reach to grab one, nearly tipping forward and falling in. You slowly pull me back and fold my hands in my lap, covering them with your own. I wanted to take the boat and quiet it, to turn it off so it would not ruin the moment, the peace. I peer into your face and see that peace is held in your eyes. I see the promise that you will always rescue me, that doing so brings you deep gladness.

Some of the boats speak out a bit louder, vying for my attention. You smile at me and look out at the flock of white sails. You don’t make them disappear. You don’t quiet them down. You don’t stop them from coming. But you sit with me. You hold me, and we watch them go by, together.

Together, our favorite spot.