Something Beautiful

Eighteen: Falling

"Love is the beauty of the soul." - Saint Augustine

The wind whips my hair all over as we speed along the quiet back roads. Turns out Caleb's car is a convertible, he put the top down after having me beg and plead for about let's say five whole minutes. Apparently it's a real hassle to the get the thing back up, but he acted like I cared? I mean damn! It's a convertible, what teenage girl doesn't want to put the top down?

Now we were just driving and for some reason, it felt nothing like those meaningless drives Carl and I took during the summer just to get away. This was something else; special almost.

When we'd first escaped we'd planned to go to the park maybe, hang out under the trees since it's just so nice out, but once we put the top down and felt the wind rushing through us, we didn't want to stop. I've never been able to breath easier I don't think. It's great to finally have a friend who doesn't mind silence either, with Carl he just has to fill every gap in conversation with small talk or random singing. Caleb doesn't even have the car radio on, and as I stare out into the bright green trees surrounding us, I feel what can only be described as absolute peace.

A smile spreads evenly across my face, and slowly I rest my head back throwing my hair out behind me so it whips everywhere but my face which can actually hurt like hell. I think I feel Caleb's eyes on me, but I feel to calm to lift my lids and check. If he's watching he's not seeing much, so what do I care? Lightly i feel warmth on my face, in segments, and realize it must be the sun breaking through the canopy of the tress.

For some reason unknown to me it triggers a very vivid memory to dance on the inside of my eyelids as if I'm dreaming, but fully aware of the air rushing past my ears.

~*~

I'm sitting with my mother, obviously back when she was alive. I can remember it now, we were out in the trees behind my old house where I grew up. They were so thick and went on for so long I used to call it the jungle, and always wanted to go exploring. Often times my mother would pack a lunch and we'd make a day out of it. This particular time I was ten years old, it was the year before she died. By this time it wasn't considered exploring so much as hiking with my mom, but it was getting less and less of a regular occurrence.

We talked about everything on these walks, even more when we finally found a spot to stop and eat something. in this memory we're sitting on fallen tree, an apple in my hand and a pickle in hers. I never liked pickles, but she adored them.

"Did you always love, Dad?" I remember asking her out of the blue when a certain boy came to mind. She'd always been comfortable with silences too, so these trips were often good times for us to have some thinking time, too.

"No, no I didn't even like daddy all that much for a long time," she answered laughing at her own answer. I giggled too and she chomped off a huge bite of pickle, squirting more juice out the sides than there was probably pickle in her mouth.

"How come? Was he mean?" I asked, naive and childish as I was.

"Yes, he was very mean, and rude, and he was older, and I liked someone else," she answered, adding more as she thought of the reasons. To my ten year old brain this was shocking. Mommy liked someone else before Daddy? Who could be better!

"How? Dad's great!" I claimed, unable to fathom anyone else taking the place of my father in my mom's heart.

"Well, he didn't start out that way, babe. He had to prove it to me, first, I mean, once he did of course I knew I loved him the way he loved me, but it took a little while. Life's not life fairy tales all the time Hun, sometimes, but not most time," she went on, taking another sucking bite, dripping some of the juice onto her light pink tee shirt. She chuckled at her sloppy eating habits, so did I but not as heartily. My mind was reeling at her words.