->> Notched Scimitar <<-



I lie on my back next to the trickling brook. The sun is overhead, trying to peek through the leaves of the forest. The blanket of leaves on the floor gives me the impression of a soft bed. The forest sounds surround me. There has been a lot of afternoons like this.

One in particular stands out in my mind today. I look back with a wistful smile.

We were in the middle of the stream, sitting side by side on a boulder. Our legs hanging off and trailing in the stream, swinging our legs occasionally. He is telling me a story, making elaborate gestures to emphasize his points. I don't really hear him. I just gaze at him while he lets me know, in his own funny version, what happens next. He is so absorped in his telling that he doesn't notice me watching him. He never does. Boys are like that.

We grow up. Sometimes when we bump into each other on the streets, I would smile at him. He would smile back. A quick hello and catching up and we are off on our separate paths. I often wonder what it would be like if we were to stay together. If we did not grow up. If all we have are afternoons sitting on boulders in the middle of streams.