I'm about to share with you
Something that was very real to me
I'm not even sure if it actually happened
But it's still a memory, ya know?

It's the happiest I've ever been in my life.

We were at the lake. And the sun was setting in the sky behind us. And we were sitting on that park bench in the clearing at the end of the path way. I remember it was that particular seat because all the other benches are wooden, constructed by the public school's shop classes out of cheap two by fours, and all the local teenagers have marked them up with graffiti and such.

Anyway, we were just sitting there. I was facing you, and you were facing the water. Every now and again I'd turn from the picturesque scene in front of us so I could look at you. And I remember you looked so content. Like you had left all your cares and worries and stresses in the car before we walked down the trail to this spot. Your face was relaxed for the first time in too long, and your smile was faint in the corners of your mouth. You looked so handsome, and you had this glow around you, like an aura. I still can't be sure if it was light and shadow cast by the setting sun or if it was coming from within you.

Your elbows rested on your knees. Your jaw rested on your hands. Your eyes were closed. And you were just listening. I wish I knew what the music of the world sounded like to you. Crickets chirping in the twilight, frogs sitting on the banks of the streams, water running along the rocks on the shoreline. It was so silent; I swear I could hear the clouds move with the warm breeze that flowed past us.

We had been talking for hours. It felt like we had barely scratched the surface of so many subjects. But at the same time we were in no rush to get to know each other – the important thing was that we understood all we needed to. That fact alone brought me this feeling of serenity, the same peace that so obviously shown on your face. I watched your shoulders, slightly hunched, rise and fall with each breath you took. So even, so slow, so calm.

We weren't touching. We weren't speaking. We were simply being. Just existing in that moment. Together. But still separate. And it was enough. It was more than enough. It was you and me and us.

I love that memory.