were only toned, and a subtle sadness behind his vivid blue eyes I don’t remember seeing two years ago. His ear-length blond waves are buried underneath a brown beanie hat, and he’s more appropriately dressed than me in a mossy green cable knit sweater and light blue jeans.
“A long time indeed. Although if I remember it right, we agreed it always comes back to time, didn’t we, Baby Bear?” he asks in reference to the phrase he’d written so long ago on the back of the treasure of a lifetime, which now has pride of place in a frame above the desk in my room. “Maybe now is our time.”
I understand what he means and yet I don’t. Like my soul understands something my brain doesn’t, my brow valleys even as I find myself replying, “Maybe it is.”
He smiles at this, as if knowing a secret I’m not yet privy to.
“I hope so. You going to take a seat? As glad as I am for this coincidence, I’m sure the one in a billion chance of running into me isn’t why you’re here?” he asks with a self-deprecating smile. He picks up whatever is on the bench next to him and shifts left so both of us can sit down and stare out at the sea.
I only hesitate for a second before walking the remaining few steps and joining him on my father’s bench. I’m not sure why I pause. It’s as if I know that if I go toward him, I’ll be walking forward in more ways than one. Even though I’m not quite sure what all of those ways are.
As I sit, I realize the items next to him were his sketchpad and a small palette of watercolors, which are now resting on his lap and to the left of him. He’s painted an incredible version of the sunset. I guess we both had the same idea to capture the infinitely intangible.
“That’s amazing.” I nod my head toward the painting.
“Thanks.”
“I had the same idea, though mine takes less skill,” I say, holding up the camera around my neck.
“Not necessarily. Something tells me you’re an incredible photographer.” I blush behind my natural tan.
“Thanks. I’m a work in progress. My dream is to become a professional photographer. I’m currently going to school for it.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Um, Bilde,” I tell him. My tone is almost embarrassed even though it’s something I should be proud of, something I am proud of.
Before he can stop them, his eyebrows raise in surprise at the mention of the world-renowned art college. “Well then, I’m certain you’re an incredible photographer.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I just smile and soak in the sunset.
“I can leave if you want to be alone with your dad?”
I’m touched at his thoughtfulness and understanding. But even though I had come here with the intention of being alone, I’m happy to remain in his presence and don’t mind his intrusion.
“No, that’s fine. Thanks for the offer though.”
“You’re sure?”
I nod in confirmation. “I’m sure.”
“Okay.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, but it’s not awkward or strained. It just is. That’s the best kind of silence, when it’s not anything but itself.
“Do you come here often?” I ask him, breaching the quiet. I wonder if this is his first time here or if he’s been coming over the years like I have, crossing my path but never on it.
He goes to answer and then pauses as if he’s just heard what I’ve asked him. His face fills with amusement and he raises a questioning eyebrow at me, causing momentary confusion. Unsure of myself, I repeat my words in my head, trying to work out what was so funny about what I said that prevents him from giving me a straight answer.
Then I get the joke.
And even though it’s not that funny, suddenly we’re both laughing with the good kind of tears in our eyes just like that day almost on this very spot two years ago.
“That wasn’t a come on, I promise,” I tell him, through residual laughter once we’ve both calmed down.
“You’re sure about
“A long time indeed. Although if I remember it right, we agreed it always comes back to time, didn’t we, Baby Bear?” he asks in reference to the phrase he’d written so long ago on the back of the treasure of a lifetime, which now has pride of place in a frame above the desk in my room. “Maybe now is our time.”
I understand what he means and yet I don’t. Like my soul understands something my brain doesn’t, my brow valleys even as I find myself replying, “Maybe it is.”
He smiles at this, as if knowing a secret I’m not yet privy to.
“I hope so. You going to take a seat? As glad as I am for this coincidence, I’m sure the one in a billion chance of running into me isn’t why you’re here?” he asks with a self-deprecating smile. He picks up whatever is on the bench next to him and shifts left so both of us can sit down and stare out at the sea.
I only hesitate for a second before walking the remaining few steps and joining him on my father’s bench. I’m not sure why I pause. It’s as if I know that if I go toward him, I’ll be walking forward in more ways than one. Even though I’m not quite sure what all of those ways are.
As I sit, I realize the items next to him were his sketchpad and a small palette of watercolors, which are now resting on his lap and to the left of him. He’s painted an incredible version of the sunset. I guess we both had the same idea to capture the infinitely intangible.
“That’s amazing.” I nod my head toward the painting.
“Thanks.”
“I had the same idea, though mine takes less skill,” I say, holding up the camera around my neck.
“Not necessarily. Something tells me you’re an incredible photographer.” I blush behind my natural tan.
“Thanks. I’m a work in progress. My dream is to become a professional photographer. I’m currently going to school for it.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Um, Bilde,” I tell him. My tone is almost embarrassed even though it’s something I should be proud of, something I am proud of.
Before he can stop them, his eyebrows raise in surprise at the mention of the world-renowned art college. “Well then, I’m certain you’re an incredible photographer.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I just smile and soak in the sunset.
“I can leave if you want to be alone with your dad?”
I’m touched at his thoughtfulness and understanding. But even though I had come here with the intention of being alone, I’m happy to remain in his presence and don’t mind his intrusion.
“No, that’s fine. Thanks for the offer though.”
“You’re sure?”
I nod in confirmation. “I’m sure.”
“Okay.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, but it’s not awkward or strained. It just is. That’s the best kind of silence, when it’s not anything but itself.
“Do you come here often?” I ask him, breaching the quiet. I wonder if this is his first time here or if he’s been coming over the years like I have, crossing my path but never on it.
He goes to answer and then pauses as if he’s just heard what I’ve asked him. His face fills with amusement and he raises a questioning eyebrow at me, causing momentary confusion. Unsure of myself, I repeat my words in my head, trying to work out what was so funny about what I said that prevents him from giving me a straight answer.
Then I get the joke.
And even though it’s not that funny, suddenly we’re both laughing with the good kind of tears in our eyes just like that day almost on this very spot two years ago.
“That wasn’t a come on, I promise,” I tell him, through residual laughter once we’ve both calmed down.
“You’re sure about