Eyelashes like Butterflies

He grabbed a beach towel from the back seat. She slipped into one of his over-sized Henley shirts, white in color. And into the skirt she just bought from Spencer’s Gifts, just short enough to be playfully-fun.

When the coast was clear, they got out of the car and she ran up to the edge of the lookout point.  The view of the mountain ranges in front of her was endless and majestic.  She threw her arms straight out from her sides, offering the magnanimous scene a welcome into her life and a warm embrace. Her happiness was not only obvious in her personality, but also in her health. She looked beautiful and more importantly, she felt beautiful. Her happiness equaled his own.

The weather changed slightly, making for an interesting effect. Being that high up there was a mist in the air which seemed to trickle down from the cover of clouds blocking the sun for the moment, giving a unique ambiance to the daylight and making it look surreal, magical even.

I placed the beach towel on the ground and she lied down on it, just in time to take some close-up shots of her as a slight breeze kicked up, lightly blowing her hair away from her face. I quickly got the camera ready and knelt down in front of her.  From the eye of the lense, I could she definitely had the look in her eyes for close-up shots.  A simple slight squinting made for beautiful pictures of her.  She wasn’t happy with the series of events that made their new location a necessity, but when she got there and saw how beautiful it was, she gave everything a second thought, realizing the best was yet to come.

She lied on her back, looking up at the clouds.  He sat next to her and admired the beauty of his BabyGirl.  She closed her eyes as he placed his hand on the diaper between her legs.  He already knew, but still followed the routine.  Placing a pacifier in her mouth, he traced the outline of her jaw with his fingertips, then her eyebrows with his thumbs, kissed her forehead with his lips, rubbed noses together and batted eyelashes like butterflies.

Perhaps they were only yet to begin or perhaps they were only yet to begin again.

She loved to be touched. And he loved to touch her. It was touch that connected them in ways that words failed to communicate, whether in an embrace or as a simple brushing of hands as they passed by, a hand on the shoulder, on the neck, on the bottom, on the belly, a kiss to the side of her face, a kiss to her forehead, fingertips to fingertips – it all registered in her senses as memories she would draw from again and again in the future.

He took other pictures, mixing in pacifiers with face shots when the breeze kicked up. She dropped to her knees, spelling her name with the small pebble offerings on the ground. She stood up as he handed her the camera and knelt by her side, gently brushing away the dirt and smaller stone chips she had knelt in. She took a few pictures of her pebble artwork – then a few of him, kneeling before her. He looked up at her and the white clouds above her detailed the outline which encompassed her figure. All she needed yet was the halo.

Overcome with passion, he stood up, tilted her head, embraced her and kissed her, lifting her off her feet and spinning in a circle. She extended her arm out above them and took numerous pictures of their kiss with the camera. Some were blurry from the twirl, but every one of them showed two souls which had experienced a very fairy tale beginning, a love that deepened and grew – into each other’s arms, into each other’s hearts, into each other’s lives, into the present and the wide open future … bright and glorious and enriching as it promised to be.

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