We couldn’t stand the city one minute longer, so we walked right into the rent-a-car place, no reservation, and started our journey upstate. As you drove, I called around, and eventually I found us a cabin. We stopped at a supermarket and bought a week’s worth of food for two nights.
It wasn’t too cold out, so we moved the kitchen table outside. The breeze kept blowing out the candles, but that didn’t matter, because for the first time in our relationship, there were plenty of stars above us.
The wine set the tone of our conversation – languid, tipsy, earthy.
“I love dining alfresco,” you said, and I laughed a little.
“What?” you asked.
And I said, “We’re not naked, silly.”
Now it was your turn to laugh.
“That’s not what it means,” you told me. “And anyway, don’t you feel naked now?”
You fell quiet, gestured for me to listen. The sound of the woods, the feel of the air. The wine settling in my thoughts. The sky, so present. And you, watching me take it all in.
Naked to the world. The world, naked to us.