I met you in our wheat field, running with your kite. We ran together, the memory is fuzzy but I still remember. We grew up our wheat field, camping under the stars, huddled in the tent we shared when our dads came up growling like bears, sitting out there after school while I helplessly tried to teach you Algebra. You asked me out for the first time in our wheat field, I always knew you would. We went on the most fabulous date, a folding table that you set up in under the moon. We shared our first kiss in our wheat field, it was just a soft kiss, but special none the less. You asked me to marry you, while you were kneeling next to the spot where we camped, dated, and kissed. I said yes, and now that you are gone, I walk alone while our kids camp with their friends, through our wheat field, where we shared so many memories.
Our Wheat Field
May 24, 2012