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Rated: E · Short Story · Personal · #1754661
A story I wrote for my Literature class. One of my favorite pieces.
Even February was tired of the cold. The warm sun on my face accompanied by a light breeze made me giddy. We walked along the winding path, our arms occasionally brushing as a misplaced step sent us sliding across the slippery bed of pine needles beneath us; the sweet air of the woods helped to clear my mind. Though we spoke a bit, I think we both understood the beauty of a shared silence between two people, the kind of silence that doesn’t make you feel alone, but causes you to appreciate the simple act of being with someone. You can learn a lot about a person by what they don’t say, by the way they hold their body as they walk, by the way they turn their face to the sun or angle it toward the shadows.          

Each curve of the trail led us deeper into the lush green of the woods, a green almost too vivid for this time of year. It was as though nature had preserved summertime, bottled it up and placed it on a top shelf for use when the days weren’t so favorable. The soft moss felt dense beneath my feet, the forest’s version of sand. Ever cautious, you placed each footstep with care, taking pains not to trip over the roots and sticks that littered our path. Never really one for caution, I embraced my every stumble, laughing them off as part of the journey.  For the short while we walked, I felt as though time had stopped, like we were suspended in that moment. Along with my dislike of caution, I was also not fond of looking back at the past; you thrived on it. I spent my days dreaming of the future, but afraid to be too hopeful. Neither of us lived in the present as much as we would like. Bright Eyes lyrics flooded my mind; Nothing in the past or future ever will feel like today. I wish we could embrace this.          

The trees we passed were marred with initials of hopeful souls, as if carving their names together would somehow keep their love intact. The letters clung to the trees the way lovers’ arms intertwine, trying to hold onto something illusive, but real in the hearts of those who believe. Everyone is searching for forever, whether it is in love or life; we’re so afraid of losing anything. But maybe we’re not supposed to experience forever. Would we really appreciate each moment if the next was guaranteed? Perhaps, like an unseasonably warm day in February, those little moments of perfection are fleeting for a reason.          

As we exited the woods, I watched you as you walked, soaking up the feeling of complete tranquility, knowing that it would soon be over. For a moment you let your guard down and stumbled; I followed suit. We laughed together. Stepping out into the bright sun of the real world, I sighed, for another moment of perfection was over.

© Copyright 2011 Katherine Ferrell (lilliekat27 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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