He'd decided to camp at the forks and would hike up to Gardner Meadows the next day. Evening meal had been a delight: four native trout fried to a crisp, golden brown in his small skillet; slices of fried potato cut from the two baked potatoes he carried wrapped in foil in his pack; and a small pot of tea sweetened with honey made a good meal. It was too early for huckleberries, so he made do with dried pineapple chunks and raisins for dessert. A small campfire gave a circle of light and warmth. Her words, again, and so true, again. How could I not see it… picture it? I can, in my mind, and in these words, surrender myself to it… to her. Only here. No, not a whole narrative, dear reader. You understand, don’t you? I see flashes of it, for it is only in imagination. It can never be real. But I can tell you I see her leaning back against me, head thrown back on my shoulder. I can tell you I see the profile of her face, eyes closed, slight smile. The soft curve of her neck that I gently. ...know?" About 7 years ago we had dinner at that Mediterranean restaurant, you sat next to me, my wife was across from me and David across you. " She raised her eyebrow in suspense. "Your fork fell and you leaned to get it. You were wearing low rise jeans which uncovered this satin flower thong that has been tattooed in my head since then."She turned red again, took her cup of coffee with her two hands, crossed her legs and lean a little towards the table."I had a feeling that you saw them,. I had told her a thousand times to meet our neighbors and get a nanny to leave Mikey with, but no, our son should always be with us! And now she was the one asking to keep him away from her? I refrain for that fight over and over, I should have taken Mikey with me… maybe, just maybe they would still be alive… ========================= I was out of this world, so once again Natalie inquired: ‘Mr. Vega would you like something to drink? A coffee, hot chocolate, anything?…’ I looked into her eyes:.
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