One Morning in July

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
One time she clasped my hand looking excited into my eyes, her fingers intertwining with mine. I felt her soft palm moistening into my rugged hands. She held tight to me. That she would feel secure in my hands made me feel very happy. Even though she has moved on---and I have never seen her for years---the memory of her face still lingers in my mind. It’s like the scent that sticks. The passage of time makes the memory more beautiful.

Submitted: October 18, 2010

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Submitted: October 18, 2010

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It was a July early morning and the monsoon air was frosty. It had rained the previous night, torrential rains lashing out. As the morning dawned lazily, I woke up to the sound of the drizzling noise. The heavy downpour had formed large rivulets in the ground. I pushed aside my brown bed cover, messily put on my black corduroy jeans and peeped out the window. I saw twisted branches and tree trunks drenched and soggy; the dark brown bark was peeling off. Droplets of water were still dripping down from the leaves forming tiny puddles in the wet earth. The fragrance of the eucalyptus floated in the air. The perfume was rich and inviting. It was going to be a morning---a July morning--- forever etched on my heart.

I put on my blue sneakers and walked out in the cold. The air was chill but it felt nice. The moonlight was slowly giving way to the morning sun. A fresh gust of wind blew caressing my face. It was a pleasant sensation. I took long and steady steps with my hands burrowed deep in my pocket avoiding the puddles. The low-hanging branches were gently swaying to the wind and intermittently spraying dewdrops of water all over me. The large ground in front of the main hall fringed by tufts of grass was swept clean by the heavy rains. Tiny particles of the brown soil shimmered as the morning streaks of the golden sunlight ricocheted off them.

I kept walking towards an entrance that led to the other side of the campsite. The entrance door was flanked by two other rooms; a dining hall to the right and a kitchen to the left. The door was narrow and small. It had a Roman architectural feel to it. The door led to the other side of a cobble stoned pathway. By now the sun was warming the ground and the brown-speckled sparrows were chirping away giddily on the weak branches of the jacaranda tree. The velvet bougainvillea crept up the stone pillars. To my right were rows of worn out granite stone benches anchored to the ground covered with yellow and red flower petals that had fallen from the branches.

As I stepped out the small arched doorway--- and barely began to take a few steps--- something appeared to me like a mist rising from the distant ground. The fog was slowly drifting away clearing the sight of a young, tall girl emerging from the other side of the wooded campsite. I stood riveted to her sight. She was walking towards my path. Her gait was delicate. I could see she was enjoying her morning walk. Her yellow cotton dress with a black satin border showed off her slender frame. She looked a petite beauty. Her long, wavy black hair bobbed on her fragile shoulders as she walked down the sun-drenched dirt track. I could hear her sandals crunching the loose soil.

She saw me and smiled; her black pupils glinting in the milky white of her adorable eyes. It was a morning sight that I didn’t expect. Her child-like smile exuded a sense of warmth. And in a momentary delight our eyes gazed at each other longingly.

With a delightful tone---as if to say, I really like seeing you this morning---her cranberry lips greeted, “Good mornin”. I answered, “Good morning”.

“Enjoying the morning walk” I asked, my tongue almost sticking to the roof of my mouth. I was nervous in talking to this beautiful girl.

“Yes I am” she blinked “It’s cold but the sun is so beautiful”

I said, “Yes, it’s cold but it’s warm, too”, “I hope to see you again”

“May be” she whispered raising her eye brow. Her eyes looked exquisite.

We both stood there for few fleeting moments what looked like hours exchanging sweet nothings. I don’t remember exactly what else we talked. She was shy and I was quite self-conscious. She then walked away. I stood to watch where she was going.

In my mind I wished she would turn around to see me one more time. And to my surprise… she did. Halfway down her walk, she turned around and threw a quick glance at me. I caught her eye, half covered by her shiny black twirls, smooth as silk. She had a bashful look. She grinned at me. That said it all. I didn’t want to go from there. Her angelic face with an innocence of a child imprinted on my mind like a picture snapped by a camera.

I saw her walking around the dining area. The rectangular structure had rows of water faucets. She bent her head towards the faucet and was splashing her face with the cold running water. The luminous beams of the golden sun glistened on her moist face. Her unblemished olive skin shone revealing her fair skin. The dimple on her cheek was pink. She threw her head back slightly; her soggy locks of hair dripping water. She stood there looking at the hot sky and let the sun lick away her face.

From a distance she looked ravishing. If there was an angel, she was one, on a morning stroll in the wooded campsite of Jeya Park of Scouts and Guides.

To this day I can never forget that morning. Her adorable doe eyed face framed with an aquiline nose was tantalizing. She was simply beautiful. Irresistible. The memory of her face is so nostalgic; it washes up inconsolable delights in my mind. I cannot adequately describe the feeling. I was young. I was in a camp and I think I felt the first stirrings of love; an arterial burst of love. It was more than a feeling. I was awakened by beauty. A tingle ran through my heart. It’s the kind of experience that even after many years it still feels fresh like yesterday. This was not love at first sight. It was a sight of love. The trees knew it. The flowers saw it. The morning sun blanketed it. The stone benches witnessed it. The eucalyptus perfumed it. What can I say? There are so many memories for a man. And some of the unforgettable memories are memories of love--- for me it was the smile of this beautiful girl.

One time she clasped my hand looking excited into my eyes, her fingers intertwining with mine. I felt her soft palm moistening into my rugged hands. She held tight to me. That she would feel secure in my hands made me feel very happy. Even though she has moved on---and I have never seen her for years---the memory of her face still lingers in my mind. It’s like the scent that sticks. The passage of time makes the memory more beautiful.

Only heaven knows the aches and joys of love that a human heart feels


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