Echoes of a Confident Heart

The sky was clear from here to the horizon, the broad water in the distance seemed to fall off the edge of the earth, and the sun was being swallowed by the lake slowly but surely. The soft rush of the waterfall behind us just added to the quiet of the setting. I felt the gentle touch of your hand on my shoulders, as you slid around the edge of the garden bench and gracefully sat down beside me.

The hand slipped down into mine, and not a word was exchanged, although in my heart I had never heard as eloquent a poem as the caring that was written there at that moment. You leaned up for just a second and laid a soft kiss on my cheek, All I could do was smile, as the situation called for no words, and indeed, none would have been adequate to the moment.

We had poured more love, sweat, thought and energy into this place than should have been possible. And in the end, it was all forgotten, or more than worth it, when, on an evening where the wind was a symphony of peace, we could sit as the sole audience to this concert and enjoy the satisfaction that only perfection truly brings.

Not everything was in place yet, and I knew that even those things I looked upon as perfect would be changed, or re-arranged, or replaced, and always the changes would be even more perfect if such a thing were truly possible.

The sun was just a sliver now, and the sudden chill of the evening brought you closer to me. Still no sound had been made to break the silence.

A quick flash of a fish surfacing to feed in the pond attracted both our attentions, and you got up and went to the edge. I watched you sit there admiring the beauty that we had created, the true child of both our minds and souls, and felt so much contentment at that moment that I felt that the world could not contain that much feeling.

You turned, said one word, “Heaven”, stretched out your hand, took mine, and headed back for the house.

Each of the rocks in the path were familiar to us, even in the gathering darkness, for each had been put in place carefully, lovingly, sometimes painfully by us, and each was where it was supposed to be. The stream still danced downhill off to our left, singing us a constant song of life and joy.

The house welcomes us, first with the lights from the patio in back, then the small accent lighting to welcome us to our place, a home not just a house, a haven from the world’s noise. We enter through the patio door, and as I go in to brew up a small herbal tea for us, you stay in the greenhouse, just taking care of (or maybe just talking to) one or another of your plants. I always love this about you, the gentle habits, the constant quest for perfection with the full knowledge that it is the quest that is important.

I wander out onto the front porch as the kettle is warming up and listen to the soft wind rolling by. On a night like this there are few sounds and those that do come are lullabies sung to put us at rest. The moon hangs in the sky and traces a road across the lake that leads right to our home, and I think back on the path that has brought us to this place, this time, this night.

The soft whistle of steam, and the sound of the greenhouse door being closed brings me back into the house. I collect a small kiss (actually a few small kisses, I am by nature greedy) from you as I enter the kitchen and pour out our cups. You go out to the porch after turning on gentle music, now the sound track of our life, and I follow a minute later with both cups. Your cup is on the right as usual, and we snuggle into the porch swing, and relax, and taste our tea, and talk.

We discuss thoughts and happenings of the day. We talk of dreams and wishes. We mention plans and hopes. We open up our souls and use this time to sort them out with each other’s help. This communication and openness has always been at the core of our caring and it the one thing that I never wish to do without. Every once in a while, your hand will reach out to touch my arm just to emphasize a small point. Each time it still thrills me to feel the gentle touch, the soft caring, the desire to be near that is in that simple gesture.

You point out the moonlight road. I smile an acknowledgement that I had seen it, and that brings on a small silence as we look around at our surroundings. I look over at her, and say “You were right up there when you suggested that this is heaven, maybe it is, and we just had to work a bit to get here.”

You love the idea and turn around to snuggle up in my arms. I don’t know if it is the cool of the evening or the warmth of your caring that drove you there, and at times like these, I really don’t care. I just accept the situation, appreciate the feelings, and thank whomever should be thanked for the moment.

I look down the moonlight road across the lake, and enjoy the voyage….

This entry was posted on Friday, March 12th, 2010 at 1:46 pm and is filed under Rural Settings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.