somewhere, driving, around 6am on a cloudy, rainy, sunday morning
"I like morning breath."
"Yeah. Not like as in love. Like as in appreciate."
"Let me smell yours."
'What? No. There's only one way I'd let you do that."
"So pull over."
the clouds covered our half of the horizon, producing smallish droplets that drizzled the landscape. the dirt road extended past anything that could be seen. the darkened fence on the right felt stable. the smell was fresh, like earth and life. there were yellow fields, and those circular sprinklers that are so characteristic of small towns. the sun was just peeking through the horizon, and the warm air drafted through the small vents on the dashboard as we watched our earth. shared the morning.
"I can't believe that I'm marrying a girl from a place like this."
"Just a city boy..."
"You love the song."
he kissed me softly then, morning breath and all. the silence surrounded us, and the sun began to join our charade of contemplation. we sat for hours. sometimes we would comment on the horizon. sometimes on the smell. once a friendly neighborhood sheriff pulled up to ask if everything was okay with the car. we told him yes, that we were simply enjoying the morning. he smiled, and nodded in understanding.
"Maybe, one day, we could raise kids in a place like this?"
"They would love it."
"I would love it."
the morning turned into afternoon, and the time came to leave our small haven we had found. we drove slowly, all the while watching as the yellowed fields passed, slowly turning into blocks of houses and green lawns. the days have passed, too, reminding us of our small town. it keeps us company, and reminds us.
we like morning breath.
Baptism, grandparents, and Marathon Kids
2 months ago