Our cabin is tiny but sturdy. My grandfather and father fell the trees from the property in which it stands. They labored to prepare the logs to be chinked together. Years have passed by. My husband and I have raised our boys here. The mountains that stand tall and majestic behind us our well-known. The kids wore trails from the back door to the top of Mt. Saint Claire, our name for it only, of course. But overnight the mighty mountains disappeared. Perhaps the fog stole them or maybe the snow. But the hands of time will bring their return.
Plunging into the sky and shattering darkness with brilliance. A glimpse of awestruck eyes mixed with unexpected fear. Boom or flash – which came first? Does it even matter? The beating of his heart, her fluttering eyelashes, their shy, wanting grins intensify the display. He reaches across the blanket. His fingertips brush hers lighting the fuse. The beautiful colors spread across the sky like the fingers of a lightning strike illuminating a midnight canvas. His arm around her, her wanting eyes, the softness of her lips, that one explosive moment may never be more than this; but right now, it’s everything!