August 16, 2002
Significant
I am lying on my back on the bench of the rowboat, my hand is occupied in shading my eyes and my feet are dangling in the water.
Mike laughs.
"This reminds me of Huckleberry Finn. You know what you need?"
"What?"
"A piece of hay. Right between your teeth."
I smile at him, though I cannot look at him due to the glare of the sun overhead. I sit up to kiss him and his lips are salty from sweat. Somehow I wish beautiful days could last forever, or simply be strung together, like beads on a necklace. Each of my days would be a different colour, but they would all be brilliant.
We lounged in the boat for hours, talking about evolution and movies and eachother. I sang Harry Connick, Jr. and he sang Our Lady Peace. Our pasty white skin crackled in the sunlight, and while my cheeks are rosy from our day amidst the wild, he bears no mark.
"You're pasty and cute." I say much later, squeezing his arm in a comforting manner.
His lower lip jutts comically out.
"I don't want to be pasty and cute. I want to be tan and handsome."
I smile, kissing his cheek.
"You're pasty and handsome, then."
We sat on the porch with Kevin and Steve and watched the sunset. The sky was purple and gold and rose, and a light breeze tickled our backs. It was a timeless moment, one of so many I have before felt. One of so many I have so lately felt.
I laid on his bed with Enya crooning softly, and he massaged my feet and my back. I could not keep from giggling when his hands strayed to my ticklish spots, too many to mention, and he laid down beside me with that familiar smile on his lips. The one that speaks for him. The one that shouts.
After ten hours today in his company (where does the time go?), we arrive at my house, midnight, and the truck idles in the driveway. We tease eachother with kisses and carefully selected lyrics from Madonna's 'Beautiful Stranger.' I have just finished the mix I made to somehow capture him, to capture this last month and a half, and already a new playlist is forming in my mind.
"You're the devil in disguise." I whisper, finger poised above his chin. His eyebrows dance in response, a most definite agreement, and my nose wrinkles with my smile.
I kiss him, and can't let him go.
Everything with him seems like something I will reflect back on later, be it for better or for worse. I cannot help but to believe for better, to cherish, to think fondly of and to pair with future fondness.
He seems right. That is significant.
astera at 12:53 a.m.