“Could we make a living of Creative Lives?” he asked. “Will books and stories someday sell, or is all a wishful thought?”
They spoke as children to one another, which is to say they hoped and dreamed. In admittance of a life both desired, they walked in new-found openness like canopy of woods above dappled in new spring’s break—light green of buds in first-break spread, whites and pinks in color scatter first trees in season’s bloom.
Beyond the dreaming, they asked questions of maturity—of nature, life and one’s desires, of what one values and on which creates a life.
“What is a crowded table?… Who is there?… How many children is your ideal?…”
“Four.” So much of life, she thought it none, but soul changes when it’s ready.
“Would you be happy in a simple life…grounded to a place…having less but higher value and greater meaning in the little that we do?… Would you give Catholicism a chance, be open to a God you say you doubt, or at present don’t believe?…Could you be open to faith and mystery?”
They were questions one cannot answer until, or should, happening ever come; but to ask them shows they matter to the one who asks the question and their weight does not burden or despair, later, as surprise.
“…Would you still love me if I do and, if trying, I still doubt?… Will you still love me if we try, and children are slow to come—or never do?… when my body changes…should my ass keep growing?” she made light at end of heaviness.
“Especially should your ass keep growing!” he answered in playful and energied response; hand moving from fingered interlock with hers to sweep and hold of her far hip and draw of her body to his side; hand keeping, grabbing in squeeze and kissing her light to lips as she turned to him in face.
Both laughed to his answer. Both knew that it was true. He loved her femininity, an elegance that showed evermore through time and age.
Together they walked in the open woods, her body dressed in cover as the sky—warm and cool, white and blue.
Sky blue shorts covered her hips and upper-high of legs. Below, shorts left her mid and low thighs free—open to sky’s spring-cool. Between the blue and rise-cover of tall boots, her skin goosebumped in a prominence that raised and smoothed to strength and sense of winds upon and source of her own warmth.
Walking, he gazed upon her open skin striped between blue and boot, freckles and moles—artful beauty of her body—and dimples on skin changed in cover and accord of winds and warmths.
Over high, she wore a sweater that covered her as cloud: loose and billowing and encompassing in wrap that kept whole of high in heat that soothed and gifted comfort the longer that they walked.
She wore her hair in braided keep, but beside her face, loose strands fell that caught and scattered in carry of the winds.
Her face was fair, countenance serene, as they walked in openness through woods of same.
Strong wind again, loose strands danced in spreading in the breeze. Open skin of thighs restored in goosebump-flare as she laughed to the sudden and change of wind and body’s stir.
He stilled her hair from wind-swept stir, hands combing and keeping there in holding to her face, over cheeks and beside ears. He kissed her once again in the openness of day loving faint linger of her tongue through smile that, like wind, gentled in held-tame; the way of her eyes when opened again, lower of her lids, a something new, sensed in way of lash in shade and framing of eyes’ hue; flutter in his heart as he felt his body’s hollowing below, pang of a touched desire.
Release of her face and hairs in stir and blow in the wind again, that left her in a laugh as cool struck to open thighs heated and warmed in brevity of wind-still and tamed-hold.
Hand in hand, fingered intertwine, they walked in full of sunlight returning back to home.
They left door open after enter. They wanted the scents and sounds and feel of life that carried in from wilds.
They immersed in the living spring.
Hands’ release, he watched as she led and moved further into home. Sway of her hips, stride of her step, pronation of her feet and slight inward turn of her toes with step; he loved in admire every detail of her being.
Open frame of bedroom door, light of window behind, he watched her as she moved in caprice and freedom of the spirit: move of her body—sky and cloud—feminine of figure, graced in blue; high cover of sweater-cloud on which he imagined shapely dreams.
Catch of the wind through frame in sweep, swirl of loose strands again. Same of her eyes in wooded show—lashed shade and framing hues—she smiled soft in meek of stare lasting moment longer than mere chance; eyes’ break and look away, down to unmade bed where hands traced and took in hold, making and drawing smooth.
Open-window sign—invitation in it all—she in light and wind and spring love-essence, free as wind and songs and windblown scents in carry, call, and attraction in expression through the open.
Strengthened flutter, greater hollow, build of desire’s pang; he went to her, she still in stand, and kissed her in the open. Raised hand cradled to her high of neck on which, softening and gentling in backward fall, rested fully to his hold.
Low and through band divide between cloud and sky, touch fell. Palm to skin, warm and seeking further low, he cradled to her heat. Holding, cradling, he lifted, soft-raising of body, lighter over her feet. Kiss kept, hold’s support of her gentled neck, his cradled hold’s begin in trace, touched-parting of her heat as tongue rolled to his as if in tie and connect to touch.
Deeper, stronger kiss as she felt him within her blue in same, touch strengthened as their kiss; tongue’s answer still as if in tie and bond to touched-receive.
Her hands rose in hold to his face, swept and grasped to neck behind; strength in her neck returned as she drew him firm for stronger kiss.
Move of his hands—heat’s bare and aware in depart of his touch—as hands raised and hooked to sides of her hips, lowering sky-blue—slow from thighs then fast when past the knees; still wear of her high boots.
He laid her back onto spread of bed, made neat moment before. He drew her boots free from legs and leave on floor beside as he kissed her high and inner thighs—making goosebumps smooth—as finger-touch restored in pet and touch, gentle over opened heat.
Kiss’ rise. Kiss move—nearing, seeking, closer to her place.
Kiss’ find, touch removed, gentle of lips’ in place as she felt his finger’s sink and curl, pressuring beneath where kisses held; body and spirit’s swoon as she felt him in and to and through space between. Stomach curled. Neck raised in strain to see him in his kiss; gifting affections—powerful in their gentle as hands’ ran and comb and hold of his hair; nipples’ hide and hardenen under sweater covering-cloud.
Opened as the window, in full of love-spring senes, she desired full of Creation-Way—make and not just feeling—union in the One.
Hands from hair, lower in hold and drawing raise to back, she brough his body high; stripping and freeing as he had her own sky blue; bared and full in spring and lover’s swell; sweater cloud of dream, last cover either wore.
Strong upon, she held to him; strong and tightening wrapping of legs guiding movement and set of force and pace of their Creation; dance of her tongue through opened lips, light-flickered to his own. Speeding; strengthening; his hands in pin from bodies’ press, grasping strong through and to cloud-cover’s lovely hiddens; her bodies’ race then freeze in come of brace and hold for feel; tighter of her hold, wrap and draw of legs; last-furtive of tongue and flicker before still and voice in sound and light broke through; his own in resonance, strong within, pulse-slowing as he spent; goosebump-skin in after-cool, world and sense—beyond the passion—returning in aware.
Still embracing, they gazed onto ceiling—wooden beams and planks above—and imagined home as if hewn from a tree of life—each burl and whorl of grain made sign where new branch, and life, began. In tame and soothe of after-hold, they wondered—had they made one then?
Together, they lain in thoughts of children, which is to say they hoped and dreamed.