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Topic: Blessed (11/29/04)
TITLE: CONCEPTION By Maxx . 12/04/04 |
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Our headlights illumined the now dimming campground, scattered fires blossoming. Through the dusk our campsite appeared swallowed in its own private forest. The ground was carpeted with pine needles, dropped by the giants that surrounded us. I carefully backed the mustang in, parking near the scarred picnic table, and started to unload. My senses were invigorated by the scent of pine, dust, altitude, and eucalyptus smoke freshly ignited and burning. I pulled Amber to me, looping my thumbs in the embroidered back pockets of her tight jeans, and kissed her. “This was an outstanding idea,” I said.
“A nice getaway from classes and the office.” Amber tickled me, causing my hands to jerk away from their grasp. “And besides, you had always promised to show me around up here,” she reminded. I watched her step away to begin organizing our household, boxes serving as kitchen pantry and linen closet. I wondered if there would ever come a time when I wouldn’t be mesmerized by her hypnotic movements. The thought was inconceivable to me as she shone brighter than the redwoods, and mountains, and the emerging stars combined. My blessings, I realized, were absolutely innumerable.
The pine needle kindling smoked with no flame. This resulted in our fireless campsite being swallowed by night. I laughed at my own ineptitude until repeated failures began to mount. Amber began to play at recreating a fire dance around the scorched metal pit. I welcomed her movement, recognizing that the continued activity would keep her warm while I struggled. I became concerned that the only fire we might share was the lighter used in my pyrotechnic efforts. I forced myself to relax in the beauty of creation, sharing the fantasy with the resplendent bride of my youth. The flame caught on the next strike.
This was the first time Amber had camped. She hopelessly burned our pot of baked beans beyond recognition. Fortunately I demonstrated far more skill and success with the barbecued hot-dogs. Although choice was limited, we joked about hot-dogs until we could no longer eat. After clean up, which included burning our plates, Amber produced a bag of marshmallows for roasting. Unfortunately, she had mistakenly purchased a large bag of miniatures, which rendered the traditional roast a messy impossibility. We cuddled together on the picnic table tossing the tiny white puffs into the flames, watching them expand and burn. I kissed powdered sugar from her fingers.
I inflated an air mattress inside of our dome tent. Amber first opened, then zipped our two sleeping bags together as one. She arranged our crude bedchamber with the care usually reserved for the richest royalty. The mountain air prompted us to our bed and we lay together watching the fire sputter. I held her body close to me and absorbed her warmth as my own, sharing mine in return. I felt returned and renewed with Amber near and responsive in my arms, and I prayed the moment would linger. I inhaled the fulfilling satisfaction of marriage.