Memories of the meadow

              I can still remember the warm, rich smell of the tall grass in the late spring, and feeling the heat in the air hinting at the fact that summer was right around the corner. I can still remember the feeling of the late afternoon sun shining down on my upturned face, and the warm presence of the blanket against the backs of my knees, and the lengths of my calves.

               I can still remember turning my head to watch his chest rising and falling in that peaceful rhythm as he slept on beside me, and the way his full lashes curled over his closed eyes.

               I could have lain there forever, just watching him dream, feeling peaceful and content and safe and loved as I'd never before felt in all my years on this good earth.

               I never knew what love was before our paths crossed in the woods that day. Was it only a few months ago? It seems a lifetime ago now since then. Days of laughter, days of tears.

               It was another life, for both of us. And knowing now that such peace, such love, such joy could exist, I wouldn't trade a single hardship or sacrifice that I faced in my previous life-- in any of the previous lives I'd led-- knowing that they led me to that meadow, and to the one who shared in such sacred and precious days with me. 

               In times of darkness, in times of fear, and doubt, and dread, I remember the days we spent together in the tall grass, laughing and talking, with no thought but to love one another, to enjoy the time we'd been granted to be together for however long it would last. I always feel myself renewed by such memories of the love and life I found in those precious days, of innocence and happiness and tenderness, and I carry on with my soul strengthened, renewed by such tender memories of young love.

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