I close my eyes. A few moments pass, how long I have no idea.
What are you doing? She asks.
Just resting my eyes.
I have waited so long to be where I am right here, right now. A blissful weariness has settled over me, recalling memories of glorious fall days — jumping in piles of leaves and climbing the golden trees, Mom calling me in for dinner as dusk settles in, the falling temperatures hinting at winter to come.
Don't fall asleep.
Her silky hair falls against my shoulder, the touch of her hand against my chest sending electricity throughout my body. A blanket of warm mirth covers my being.
I had so much fun today.
Me too, she answers.
The day is a blur in my head. We'd spent hours at the cider mill eating donuts, getting lost in the corn maze, warming up with hot apple cider. Then had been lunch at Leo's, how the waitress had almost burnt her eyebrows off after yelling opa! and igniting the cheese into a brilliant flame. What had been next? Oh how could I forget the Red Wings game. Who did they play? The Penguins, I think, or maybe the Knights. It didn't matter, they won for once.
I can't believe it's been six months.
I'm so thankful for all the memories we've made already.
I love you.
She said she loved me too. Six months. But it could have been a day. It all feels too good to be true. The world began to fade away as I closed my eyes again, longing for sleep, but not wanting to relinquish my joy, trying not to let it slip through my fingers. I begin to hear the sound bells, perhaps a commercial on the TV. Then it gets louder, and louder, and louder! My eyes snap open!
I pull off the covers and look at my phone to turn off the alarm: