Not according to plan. Instead of considering potentiality, energy, and power (as I had planned), we spent our time looking into the Swift River. Lying on big rounded boulders, we gazed into the water. A submerged scarlet leaf was swept along in the middle distance between the glassy, textured surface and the tawny, mottled bottom. I admired the ruffs of frothy ripples the water whipped up when cross currents met.
I thought: an anniversary is like celebrating the nth cubic meter of river doing it incessant work of sucking on stones like hard candy or licking on slabs of granite like lollipops.
As we lay on the sofa-sized rocks and basked in the sweet sun, the coolness of the breeze exactly balanced the increase of the warmth, leaving a tingly, delicious evenness.
We could have been solemnly reviewing the state of the union, but we blew off the assignment. Time for that later.
At day's end, though, we did review what's impossible for us, or either; what's hard; what's desirable; what's longed for, trying to balance the 'That's why...' with the 'Let's make sure...'
This talk is not bad or sad but being candid and appreciative, declarative and curious, naked and presentable in a single session is like walking a tightrope, and sometimes falling, sometimes jumping.
We, I, feel blown out. I remember with pleasure, lying flaccid on the river rock, feeling the breeze shaving the down of warmth on my cheek, you reclining on your stony couch sharing the same sweet moment, the water roaring and chuckling around us. That was good; it still is.
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