Walking in the Summer

The days of summer that stick to the walls of your memory like an old picture on corkboard are the days that feel like an time independent capsule unto themselves. The day begins in the morning which fades into the afternoon and when you’re not looking it becomes the night. But on those magical days the constraints of daily living blow away with the wind up towards a cloud. If you get chilly the clouds part and the sun radiates on you. If you get too warm a timely cool breeze sifts through the trees and melts the heat into a most relaxing sensation.

The first day I spent with Alice was a day like that. We walked along the old dirt path that drove through the oak trees and patches of shrubs and leaves. The ambience of the woods, the cicadas chirping, the birds calling, and beers cans rattling on the lip of the water, became a member of the conversation not a distraction. We talked of nothing and everything, trivialities inside of metaphysics, and pain inside of happiness.

Being ever the gentleman, I had prepared a snack for my female companionship. I reached inside my side pant pocket and removed a red apple which I have read is the fourth most romantic fruit. After rubbing the apple-shaped fruit on my shirt to rid it of dust and other harmful carcinogens I look into her eyes and speak to her being by saying, “So…you into apples?” She giggled and blushed which in turn made me giggle and blush. By the opportunity which broke the ice and removed the guards we shielded the other with, I reached out to take her hand in mine. Her fingers held on to mine the way the bun covers a McRib. We ambled along the path further hardly conscious of our wooded surroundings, which is ok because after you’ve seen a few trees you pretty much get the idea. I hoped that my pounding pulse couldn’t be felt by Alice as she gingerly held my hand. Every drop of blood circulating my body had been called up to face like there was a draft. Beads of sweat were forming rivers in the lines in my forehead. Where’s that cool breeze now? I take back all I said about it’s punctuality.

My head faced front gazing at some untamed plant that I had no interest in knowing the name of while I can see through my periphery that Alice is looking right at me. Terror courses through me but for fear of the consequences of missing an opportunity my head swivels towards the girl in slow, smooth pace to wrench her anticipation for when our eyes would at last meet. Eight and a half minutes later, our eyes are locked. Her lips were trembling; at least I assumed they were lips because everything had become a blur. As it turns out that was because Alice had vomited all over my face. There had been a worm in the apple I gave her, I took a mental note, “Alice must be allergic to worms.”

After washing my face in the cool, murky pond we continued on the path now with the moisture on my knees from the pond and some moisture in my hair from Alice’s Cobb salad. The sun began to morph into a pinkish orange tandem as the heat of the day waned. The frogs on the pond called out like an old country song that people only pretend to like but secretly loathe. As the magic of the setting struck me my knees began to tremble. It wasn’t the shining water rolling only slightly as the suggestion of the breeze, it wasn’t the nascent moon rising for duty, although it might have been dehydration as I don’t drink the recommended 5 glasses of water a day. The most likely of all reasons was that I had found a peace inside this shrine of beauty carved out of the earth and Alice was there to share it with me.