September 18, 2012

Picnic


I'm humming, and I don't know the song.  A single line keeps running through my head on a continuous loop, I try to dig it out while I'm making dinner.  The picnic basket is packed, wineglasses and spoons. A pretty checkered blanket sits next to our shoes by the door, waiting.  We walk, him with the picnic basket, me with the blanket and my ever charged camera, to the park a few feet away.  Looking across the distance we aim for shade.  I find myself whipping the blanket out on a shady slopped hill under a beautiful green tree, only a few feet away from a hillside of dropped apples, slowly decaying.  We lay down and find how slopes are conducive to sight.
"Nice mountains" Shane comments, I'm not sure what he is referring to.
"Yes, Baker is gorgeous from here." I counter back.  And she is, from here our mountains are visible, and we feel safe.


I close my eyes with my head on his chest and enjoy the warmth of a lucky September evening (which we've enjoyed many of this month, albeit at work.)  A light breeze tickles my skin and teases the leaves to dance around,  their fluttering sounds above us.  I know that this is happiness, I wonder about how lucky I am.  I sit up and pass Shane the drinks, gin and tonic will always remind me of summer.  I spoon a mushroom and egg salad on top of my fresh sweet molasses bread.  Slowly we eat, savouring each and every bite.  Its salty and creamy, meaty and delicious.  The gin and tonics are cold now and we sip.
The hill reminds me of Paris, when it feels like long ago, we sat atop Montmartre with a picnic in hand.  When we drank wine and ate bread.  When I laid down my head on the very same person.  When we marveled at the view.  It was the same event, separated only by time and distance.  Several hundred days, several thousand miles.  I didn't wish to be back in that moment, I was happy with this one here.  I plucked the sweetest champagne grapes from the tiniest vines in twos and dropped them one at a time into my mouth.  My mind drifts away and I'm thinking; sweeter than dessert is the taste of happiness.

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