Forest of Young Love

May 19, 2011
It’s just another quiet day in the forest. You can hear the river not far away, the birds softly singing, the subtle sound of trees waving in the wind that have barely begun losing their bright orange leaves just days ago.

A girl walks slowly through the forest, deliberately accenting each of her steps as if trying to say “I’m fine, everything’s fine…”. Her long, wavy hair flutters in rhythm with the leaves in the wind, the rare rays of sun penetrating the tops of the trees shine directly on her blonde hair in a picturesque way, it’s as if she is one with the beauty of the forest. Because if there’s one thing she is, it’s beautiful.

She isn’t alone. A boy walks beside her, his stride perfectly matching hers, a synchronization that both of them relish in, their hearts beat together, their thoughts are the same, their smiles complete each other’s. She’s holding his hand. Mine. Their palms are touching, the only right way to hold a hand, because how else could you feel her warmth, her pulse perfectly matching yours?

He leads her to a small bridge by the river. There’s no one around for miles, they’re in the middle of nowhere, yet they both know exactly where they are. “This is the spot where we first kissed, remember?” he asks. It’s a silly question. She remembers the moment vividly, like it just happened seconds before. In response, she leans in, kisses him, smiles, and nothing else needs to be said.

He looks at her, into her green eyes, ones you could get lost in and never find your way out of. She stares back with a look of content and true happiness, and he’s glad that, for a moment, she can forget her fears, her doubts, everything that’s ever been pulling at her feet, because sometimes it’s as if she waded out too far into the ocean and got tangled in endless rows of seaweed and it never stopped pulling on her. Let it go, forget it all.

And for that brief moment in the woods, she does. Does anything else matter when she’s with him? Does anything else matter when he’s with her?

“Can we stay here tonight?” she asks. The boy doesn’t reply. He takes off his jacket, spreads it out on the warm grass and lies down, pulling her down next to him. She rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes. The sun slowly sets until the last lonely ray disappears behind the trees. After one last good night kiss, they fall asleep together.

The river flows at a distance, the trees sway with the gentle breeze, and the birds quiet down.

The forest of young love says good night.





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