In Early April

We had kept all our promises, some as old as the child dancing between us on our walk, others as fresh as the dew still clinging to the grass, wet and shining. With my right hand I pointed to yellow chimney smoke floating freely high above the treeline at the lake shore, while my left hand explored the middle space, just above the child's head, seeking your right hand, swaying like a censer spraying lilac scent, our favorite, into the Sunday air. Our hands clasped, and your touch was soft like lilac breath. We went forward to hear bells chiming across the water, the child skipping ahead, squealing with delight, and we felt a quieter delight unfold and swell: we recognized within a single thought, this is how easy falling in love can be. We passed the half-way bend of the path. I smiled as you nodded, over the child's head, toward a huge funnel of clouds rising slowly into a pale blue sky. And it seemed to drag the day along with it, as if a summons from Heaven had actually fallen to Earth after all these decades of silence. Oh, the promise that was fulfilled at that moment fell into its destined place! Your right hand held my left hand, the child chattering between us, the lilac-sweet air tumbling between us, and deep down, where heart and soul are neighbors, we were dizzy with the yellow joy of early April.