Redwood Trees (short story)

That night sitting down by the rocks next to that empty river bed watching the clouds go by, I reached up and pulled some stars down for you. You told me you were not a fan of the ones I had chosen because their brightness could not compare to how you felt. So I drew my leg back, and kicked them back over the clouds and into the sky, then grabbed a few more for you. These ones were more appealing to you. They were as bright as your eyes when you’re laughing at one of my ridiculously obscene jokes. And yet as soft and smooth as the voice that rolls off your lips when you’re singing sweet songs to me, or even just talking in general. Maybe this sounds cliche but you have become the soundtrack to my everyday schedule. I wake in the morning thinking of how you sound each and every night before I rest my weary head.

In the midst of all of this, next to that lonely river bed we lose track of time and fall asleep side by side under the stars, and under the watchful eyes of the red oak trees. Falling through our subconscious states we dream about nights like these and how they are meant to last forever. We’ll forever keep these memories burned into our minds like bird foot prints into freshly paved roads and initials of children who just want to press their fingers into new sidewalks. We’ll wake up in the morning and be forced to go our separate ways, knowing that things like this can only last for so long. We take that to heart, accept, and keep that night in our minds. And one day, we’ll tell our children about summer loves and the first times our hearts caught fire.