Holding Hands

We were riding down the tallest hill in our town. I lifted up my arms and began to flap them like some sort of drunken bird. I leaned my weight to the right and turned without using the handle bar. I was half showing off in front of her and half enjoying myself. The wind was light and crisp, others would consider it "freezing". But not us no. We live for the cold. The clicking of my bicycle chain was constant and fine. She said something, or asked me something, but the wind filtering through my ears, overpowered her soft voice. I simply nodded my head and gave a slight shrug of my shoulders. I figured any kind of response would let her know that I at least tried to hear what she said.

We came to a clearing and got off our bikes. "Let's go to that tree over there" I said, "the tall one with the red in it." She followed me close behind, rolling her bike along side her, as I did mine. We stopped at the foot of the tree and I pulled the blanket out from the basket adhered to my bike. She gently placed her bike on the tree's trunk as I laid the blanket on the lush green land. I laid down on my back and starred up at the sky. There was nothing but a large grayish, whitish blanketed cloud. She laid next to me, on her side, and placed her head on my chest with her arm holding me tightly. She looked up at me, and I looked down in to those dark brown pools. This was all I ever wanted. This.