And everything happened

Escapril X - fog

Remember days when the summer fog would finally lift? We’d wake up and see the way the light was yellow, not grey, pouring through the white planked blinds and I’d bite your ear and whisper about the sun.

We’d grab our bikes and forget our phones, mine is green and new because it’s Leo season, yours is pink and weathered and shrieks when we get to the hill. But past the hill, our screams covered the shrieks. We’d let our hands off the breaks, air out of lungs, and take up the space in front of us.

Swerve right on the dirt path through corn fields, get into the evergreen forest where the ground is moss and soft, down down down, run off the bikes and let them clang together,  letting some of my green tear off some of your pink, run run run and splash into the lake. We’d scream some more at the levels of cold our bodies are feeling as if we didn't leave wool sweaters in the hamper just yesterday. Gosh those days. Take me back, will you?

We’d waste the afternoon in the best way, the way that makes you understand wasting away might actually be where all the joy is hiding. I’d read until I fell asleep lulled by the rhythm of your belly, you smoke, nodding to the music the high school kids across the lake are playing, feeling not so far from that young for a bit.

We’d ride home slowly and in silence, looking at each other with nothing to say. Because you were there and I was there and nothing happened and everything happened.