There's a bench on this little cliff overlooking the valley below. It is a hiker's rest stop on their way up to the peak that seems so far away but it really takes just another two hours. From the bench you can still see the parking lot in the valley where the hikers and picnickers gather with their vehicles. And if there are enough children you can sometimes hear their screaming of joy or childish anguish from scraped knees or hurt feelings. The sun is setting in the distant plain where you can see the skyscrapers of the last metropolis before the towering mountains of the Rockies. Well, barely, the skyscrapers look more like puny matchsticks compared to the mountains that line the valley.
Most of the people on the trail that passes in front of the bench have been coming down rather than going up. Summer clouds have gathered and people don't want to get trapped in the expected lightning storm while hiking on the ridge with no trees to protect them from the rain (though many don't know the danger of hiding under a tree during a lightning storm). But at this level where the bench is there is plenty of trees and shade and the two people sitting there are not thinking about the impending rain and lightening. They aren't bothered by the sporadic explosion in the sky; they don't even notice the streak of violent light that crosses the skies in front of them, behind the northern ridge. They are sitting and listening to each other in silence. They aren't talking. Their last spoken words were merely, "Hi." And then they sat together. He's wearing a red and gray jacket over a striped shirt fit tightly around his lean body. His dark blue jeans match well with her equally dark blue jeans. They are leaning lightly against each other, his right arm around hers and her head lightly resting on his right shoulder. He turns a little towards her so he can hold her two hands with his free left hand. He can smell her hair; there was nothing artificial in the scent, just the way he had remembered her from a long time ago. Although he had erased her from his life, memory of her, her whole existence, never suffered the same fate. During these years of exile, her looks, her scent, her warmth, remained fresh in his mind, and although surely all this has changed today, under the threat of rain and the anger of the skies, she is the recrystalization of his memories of her. He caresses the backs of her two hands, the feeling so familiar and so unique. And when he squeezes one of them and she squeezes back, the familiarity continues. He takes a deep breath and enjoys all the molecules emitted from her skin, her whole body, and he savors every one of the trillions and more of them.
She is wearing a sweatshirt. It's a little chilly at this altitude, but usually when you hike you don't need more than a T-shirt. But they didn't come here to hike. They have never been here. They did not know what to expect here, but they just want to sit somewhere, somewhere in this crazy world where people don't get to sit together for very long, regardless of their relationship, and simply enjoy each other's existence.
The droplets still haven't fallen, even as the thunder and lightening become more frequent. But they still don't notice where they are. They aren't even enjoying the spectacular view in front of them, the valley that opens up like a door to the Great Plains beyond where there are no clouds and just the golden façade of the setting sunlight. They don't see any of this; they just feel, and in their communal feeling they bathe with open hearts.
She turns her head a little and nudges her small nose against his stoic right ear, and instantly the stoicism turns red, and his face melts into a smile. She turns her head back and rests it again on his shoulder, and he enjoys the little sounds made by this simple action against his jacket while he caresses the back of her hands a little more.
Then they are immobile, like the rocks around them from which the short pine trees have sprung. Like the rocks, they seem two different pieces but really are carved from a single element. Frozen for the instant. They would like to be frozen like this forever, to live within just their own world, heedless to the sound and fury above or the occasional footsteps of hikers behind them.
He draws her even closer, so their body heat fuse into one. The feel of her embrace adds another level of familiarity, and his smile returns as genuine as before. Then she lifts her legs up and rests them on the remaining space of the bench so that now she is leaning even more on him. She lets out a long breath while he does the same. They can hear each other's dance of breath even though at that very moment thunder strikes behind them.
A few seconds later a huge lightening bolt tears through the skies on their right. He notices it, and then she notices his pulse, pulse in his hand, the part between his index finger and his thumb. She smiles. She remembers that pulse. He's the only person she has known to have such a strong pulse in that fleshy part of his hand. She squeezes it tighter, and the smile that disappeared with lightening returns to his face. He looks down, and sees her for the first time since they sat down. He sees the color of her hair, now with more gray lines than he remembers. He sees her two hands holding his left, and they have marks of endurance he hadn't seen before. And he squeezes her harder while giving her forehead a gentle kiss, tasting the guardian of her mind with his vulnerable lips.
