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Title: The Second Spring
Series: The Cycle of Seasons
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 588
Summary: We found each other in the spring.
Notes: The last part.
I wake to the sound of birdsong and soft wind in the trees. The air is cool and smells faintly of lilac and something like the place a memory ought to be stirs within me. Your head is close to mine on the pillow and your breathing is deep and even. It feels wrong that I should be awake before you, but there's no reason behind it. I stay in bed and listen to the sounds of sleep until your breathing changes and you heave a sigh, so I must either arise or risk letting on about the subject of my own sentimentality.
I get up and haul open the curtains just as you're beginning to stir, filling the room with sunlight. You sit up suddenly and blink, eyes going from clouded to clear in an instant. For a moment you look almost panicked, but then your gaze settles on me and you smile a faint, happy smile like you've just glimpsed your first sunrise and aren't quite sure what it is.
“Oh,” you say. “Hello.” You look past me, towards the window and amend yourself. “Good morning.”
I smile back. “Good morning, my dear,” I say. “Did you sleep well?”
For a moment you seem to consider it deeply, eyes narrowing, mouth tensing. “Yes,” you say, at length. “I think I did.”
“Excellent.” I clap my hands together once and turn towards the cupboard. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Oh, I don't know.” At last, you slide over to the edge of the bed and drop onto your feet. “What is there?”
I wait, just a moment, just until you begin to move towards me, to begin to pull the cupboard door open.
“Let's find out.”
The sun is cheerful and bright when we leave, that day. It's midmorning, by that time, and we've already passed several agreeable hours in each other's company. We move with a pleasant slowness, meandering, really, across the lush grasses. Your thoughts are the same, moving smoothly but indiscriminately from subject to subject, none of which you can remember enough about to make a coherent point on, but still you try, pausing only occasionally in speech and action to close your eyes and breath deep and then smile like the sun itself on a day much like the one through which we walk.
When we reach the top of the hill, your eyes meet mine and your smile turns almost shy.
You hold out a hand, a little bit hesitantly, and you say, “Do we know each other?”
“No,” I say, mildly, and take it warmly in mine. “But we're going to. I'd say we're going to get to know each other very well.”
Your delight is palpable and you follow without hesitation as I turn and keep walking.
We continue on, together. We cross the stream without incident, clamoring down and up the sides of the ravine one by one, supporting each other as we go. We make it through the woods, holding hands all the time, and bypass the rock cliffs with only passing mention of their beauty. When evening begins to fall, we find ourselves back on our own doorstep, without thinking about it or seeming to backtrack at all. To make you laugh, I hold the door and bow you through with elaborate courtesy. It works and, hours later, we're still laughing, about something or other, as we fall into bed holding hands.
Our lives begin, the next day, and we go out to face them together.
Series: The Cycle of Seasons
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 588
Summary: We found each other in the spring.
Notes: The last part.
I wake to the sound of birdsong and soft wind in the trees. The air is cool and smells faintly of lilac and something like the place a memory ought to be stirs within me. Your head is close to mine on the pillow and your breathing is deep and even. It feels wrong that I should be awake before you, but there's no reason behind it. I stay in bed and listen to the sounds of sleep until your breathing changes and you heave a sigh, so I must either arise or risk letting on about the subject of my own sentimentality.
I get up and haul open the curtains just as you're beginning to stir, filling the room with sunlight. You sit up suddenly and blink, eyes going from clouded to clear in an instant. For a moment you look almost panicked, but then your gaze settles on me and you smile a faint, happy smile like you've just glimpsed your first sunrise and aren't quite sure what it is.
“Oh,” you say. “Hello.” You look past me, towards the window and amend yourself. “Good morning.”
I smile back. “Good morning, my dear,” I say. “Did you sleep well?”
For a moment you seem to consider it deeply, eyes narrowing, mouth tensing. “Yes,” you say, at length. “I think I did.”
“Excellent.” I clap my hands together once and turn towards the cupboard. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Oh, I don't know.” At last, you slide over to the edge of the bed and drop onto your feet. “What is there?”
I wait, just a moment, just until you begin to move towards me, to begin to pull the cupboard door open.
“Let's find out.”
The sun is cheerful and bright when we leave, that day. It's midmorning, by that time, and we've already passed several agreeable hours in each other's company. We move with a pleasant slowness, meandering, really, across the lush grasses. Your thoughts are the same, moving smoothly but indiscriminately from subject to subject, none of which you can remember enough about to make a coherent point on, but still you try, pausing only occasionally in speech and action to close your eyes and breath deep and then smile like the sun itself on a day much like the one through which we walk.
When we reach the top of the hill, your eyes meet mine and your smile turns almost shy.
You hold out a hand, a little bit hesitantly, and you say, “Do we know each other?”
“No,” I say, mildly, and take it warmly in mine. “But we're going to. I'd say we're going to get to know each other very well.”
Your delight is palpable and you follow without hesitation as I turn and keep walking.
We continue on, together. We cross the stream without incident, clamoring down and up the sides of the ravine one by one, supporting each other as we go. We make it through the woods, holding hands all the time, and bypass the rock cliffs with only passing mention of their beauty. When evening begins to fall, we find ourselves back on our own doorstep, without thinking about it or seeming to backtrack at all. To make you laugh, I hold the door and bow you through with elaborate courtesy. It works and, hours later, we're still laughing, about something or other, as we fall into bed holding hands.
Our lives begin, the next day, and we go out to face them together.
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