When we returned from the Indian Grave, Brent and I went back to our respective camps for lunch and a rest. Later, our families would meet to head off to the Swimming Hole. We piled into two cars and drove up the dusty dirt road to the place where we precariously made our way down a hillside to the water.

Once there, we lay out some towels on the large slabs of granite rock and dipped our toes into the cold water with “oooohhhs” and “ahhhhhs” and “bbbrrrrrrs.” With a bag of sunflower seeds in her hand, my aunt stepped right in and settled herself down on a big, flat rock inside the water. My cousins followed, splashing about loudly. It was a hot summer day, so the cold water felt good once you got used to it.

Brent’s family settled themselves on a granite rock and decided to watch us swim, rather than join in. I suppose the attraction between Brent and I had become pretty obvious by then. Our flirtations probably made pretty good entertainment for the others.

As I took off my tee shirt, I was slightly self-conscious of the fact that my one-piece bathing suit underneath was rather low cut in front. Given the raised eyebrows, I probably should have left it on, but I liked the way Brent looked at me. I liked how he cleverly seized me up behind the long hair that draped over his cheeks, so others wouldn’t notice. His subtle smile made me blush.

Conscious of all the eyes upon us, I motioned with a slight sideways nod for Brent to follow me over to the other side of the creek. Brent was ready and willing to go wherever I wanted. Once on the other side, Brent decided to show off his prowess by hiking up the creek a bit further to the small cliff where he would take the daring leap into the deepest part of the swimming hole. We all cheered him as he splashed into the icy water and quickly rocketed up from the sandy depths. I swam out to meet him in the deep end like a model bringing him a trophy for winning some great feat. We laughed and shivered together as we quickly swam shoulder to shoulder to the shallow end.

We sprung out of the cold mountain creek, and darted over to one of the warm, sun-baked, granite rock slabs that bordered the swimming hole. Brent rushed to get me my towel and wrapped it tightly around my shoulders while my teeth chattered through an alluring smile. I remember secretly wishing the world would fall away at that moment so that he could put his arms around me and pull me close, using our body heat to stave off the chills.

Brent was such a handsome young man, and I was taken by how gentle and polite he was to everyone. I watched with infatuation as Brent dried off his tanned, strapping arms, and noticed how the sun gave a lustrous sheen to his straight, dark, shoulder-length hair. I could tell our interest was mutual by how he held me in his winsome gaze.

We could have stayed there basking in the sun by the Swimming Hole forever. Time stood still for us, but Brent’s family had plans to visit several other places in the Sierra Nevadas before returning to their home. His parents finally announced that the time had come for them to move on. My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t want this incredible dream to end.

Before they departed, I enlisted the help of my younger cousin to take a picture of Brent and I to help us capture this romantic memory. Brent stood close to me and put his arm around my bare shoulder, while I put one arm behind his shirtless waist. Weather she planned it or not, I was thankful when my cousin fumbled around with the camera a little before actually taking our picture, as it bought Brent and I a little more time to stay close in our one-armed, bare-skinned embrace. It was a magical moment that took a lot of discretion and control to contain the surge of hormones and sparks between us!

Once the picture was taken, we both found it difficult to say goodbye. We walked alone together, a little ways off from the others. Brent pointed out two small wildflowers growing closely together and commented on how few flowers were still growing that late into the hot summer. I remembered that this day was my grandparent’s anniversary. They had been married forever and they were still going strong. These late growing flowers made me think of their long, steadfast love that continued to blossom late into their years. I took a picture of the flowers to mark the day and the feelings they evoked, and I secretly hoped that one day, I could celebrate a lifetime of love like they had. Maybe Brent would be the love of my life.

We both finally exchanged goodbyes, commenting on how good it was to meet and that we hoped to see each other again. While his family made their trek up the hillside, dodging the thorns from the Manzanita bushes growing rampant, Brent made sure to get the address and a phone number where I would be staying for the next couple of weeks to baby-sit, so that he could contact me when his family returned home. He finally looked deep into my eyes and promised me that in 3-4 days, he would call on me again. My heart leapt! Then we embraced.

I watched Brent clamor up the hill to catch up with his family. Once they reached the top of the hill where they had parked their car, they all turned to wave goodbye. Brent was the last one to get into the car, still gazing down at me. I waved once more, feeling that I was witnessing fate in progress. I knew with the utmost certainty that our paths would cross again.

After they left, I sat on the warm granite rock, stared into the water below, and sighed dreamily. I was in love!

Posted by LaRonda on Friday, February 2nd, 2007 at 12:37 pm.