"Hey, this looks like a good place.", I said , making the turn.
As I pulled over, the wet leaves muffled the sound of the crunching gravel.
I turned off the ignition and for a few moments, we just sat there. Everything had gone quiet; there was no sound. There was no traffic. Very much different from the things I had come to get away from; the noise, the confusion, all those things that tied me up into a knot. Those things that allowed me no thinking. Nor feeling.
I reached around and picked up the camera from the back seat. As we opened the doors, the cool, clear autumn air blew in and it felt good. This was a good place.
It was as perfect as a day could be, I suppose. And just as perfect a place. On a country road, deep in the forest. Just ahead lay a wooden bridge that traversed a small creek. The trees were large and covered with all colors of leaves. There was a gentle breeze that made them dance, and in turn, the bright sunshine that streamed between them danced in patterns of light and shade. Some of the leaves were still wet with dew and they sparkled.
We left the car behind and walked along the road towards the bridge. I noticed how stiff my denim jacket felt. Not like the clothes of summer just a month or so before. But it felt good just the same; it was keeping me warm. Did she feel the same way in hers?
We didn't say anything as we walked. It didn't seem important, nature was doing all the talking. She and I were listening. The sound of water trickling over the rocks.
I lifted the camera to my eye and began to look around. Something was different from what I usually saw. It was one of those days when everything seemed a little sharper in the viewfinder. It was the light or something. The play of light and shadows.
I looked around through the eye of the camera, looking for what would suddenly click in mind. Looking for that rectangle of beauty.
As I found them, I took off my glove and shoved it into my pocket. You can't work the camera with a gloved hand, and you can't work the camera if your hands are stiff with cold.
Meter, focus, click.
Meter, focus, click.
I frequently wondered if she could make sense of what I was doing, putting what I saw in little boxes. She seemed to see things in a different way. She saw everything at once.
My nature was to look at things and try to figure them out, try to classify them, try to separate them one from another. I would cut them up and pick them apart until there was nothing left. I was trying not to do that as much as before, because if I was to escape my past, I had to find a new way of thinking; I had to find a new way to feel about things. And she was showing me the way.
She stood, leaning against the railing looking down at the water. Her arms were tightly folded.
Putting my glove back on, I walked over to her. My shoes made clunking sounds as I made my way along the bridge.
"Are you cold?", I asked.
"A little.", she said. I could see her breath as she spoke.
I touched her cheek, and even through my glove I could feel it. The softness and the warmth. I leaned forward and I touched my lips against hers. It grew into a kiss. I abruptly put my arms around her and held her as close as I could. I wanted to warm her. I wanted her to feel the warmth that she had given me. The emotion was welling up inside and it was hard to keep control. I could feel a tear beginning to form in my eye.
Slowly, I released my grasp and I looked into her eyes.
"What was that for?", she asked with a puzzled expression.
"I ...", there was a pause as I considered my words.
"I just remembered something."