Under the Moonlight

19

As the morning arrived, I was woken by the girl, who was all eager, interested, and itching to ask me whether what she witnessed was real.

"Quick! You need to see this," said the girl excitedly.

I was relieved to see her happy for whatever reason, and so we proceeded to walk through the trees as I followed her way.

"I think I might have seen the river we're up to," she said, "you said it's water flowing endlessly, so I followed your description!"

So we continued on our journey, with her hands on mine as we eventually descended down the slope and onto the treeline as we made our way down to the river.

I was entranced as I saw the river; I had no idea we'd end up at the base of a mountain an entire day after.

"This is it," I said.

The girl was delighted as I said it was it; she then proceeded to crouch down at the river's edge to look at her own reflection.

"The river... It reminds me of my butterfly."

"Of your butterfly?"

She nodded as I looked at her, then gazed at the mountain afar.

"Yes, my butterfly," she added, "you were right... A while ago, the river was rigid as winter, but now it's as calm as wind."

"Nothing is forever in what the eye can see," I said.

"Truly," she said.

I was surprised when she agreed with what I'd said before then, as I had expected her to oppose me; I proceeded to take my canteen out and drink from the river as the girl looked at me, all estranged.

"Aren't you thirsty?" I asked as I looked at her from below.

She didn't respond to my question before taking a sip from the river.

"I, too, am thirsty," said the girl, "but I didn't know you could drink from a river."

"But I think it would be better if you'd drink from this canteen."

She wiped her cheek with her hands as she stared at me in silence for a while.

And so we both sat down as I observed her drinking from the canteen, with her eyes closed. Though this water is indifferent to what I usually drink back in the city, it still, somehow, felt different. And so, I agree that, despite all things ordinary, it's not the place nor the food that one eats that makes it unique, but rather the feeling that one gets around from it, it may be a person or maybe the joy of being alone.

"Back in your home," the girl asked, "is it really true men don't need friends?"

"They need friends apparently," I said. "but most of them tend to forget."

"Men..." she said, "they always forget things; they have no sense of direction."

I nodded.

"They always look with their eyes... yet they couldn't see themselves."

I nodded.

"They write a thousand poems, yet they don't know who to give it to."

I nodded.

"Why do men forget?"

I looked at her as I was caught dumbfounded, as I, do not know the answer as well.

"I don't know," I said plainly.

"Of course, you don't!" she giggled, "you're a part of them."

I was guilty of what she had said, and so I went along with it and laughed.

"But men," I stated, "they do not forget numbers and figures, names and streets."

"Because that's what they're used to," she replied, "they count numbers, memorize names, write poems, but they never know how to make a friend; heck, even the poet doesn't have a poem to send to because he's too bothered writing poems."

The girl confided on with her tirade.

"Even you can't tell if you've ever had a friend or not," she said.

"I might have one just right now," I replied.

The girl's face turned red as I laughed at her, and eventually, we both laughed.

The feeling of being in a river with her already makes me joyful, the vivid blue skies, the calm gust of wind, the trees singing; I couldn't be happier, but why do I feel something missing, as if my heart aches to?

The girl then poked my finger.

"You do remember your promise, right?" the girl said softly, as she neared herself to sit next to me once more.

"What promise?"

"The poem... You promised me a poem from the first night back."

"Oh!"

I took out my pocketbook and hurriedly flipped through my paintings and poems, only to discover that my poem wasn't finished yet.

"Oh. It seems I haven't really finished it yet."

The girl appeared unbothered and unsurprised as she enjoyed swinging her feet in the river.

After a brief silence, she replied:

"That's alright, but I'll wait for you."

"Thank you,"

While we were idling in the river, I suddenly realized why I'd been looking for a river in the first place, and so, to my surprise, I immediately bolstered up as the girl gazed at me.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I did tell you that once we find ourselves a river, we'll go back and get my stuff, right?"

She nodded.

"Can you wait for me?"

She nodded once again.

I know she would since she trusted me, so I took off back into the forest slopes as I made my way once more through the distant woodland and up to the summit.

And so an entire day had passed, I made my way up to my camping spot, and as I look up at the night sky, the moon appeared yet again, and so I stood there, gazing upon its intangible beauty once more, and so I said to myself: "This is where you live."

While packing away the tents and blankets, I took a short break by the stone where we first sat and bonded, and I decided to finish the poem there and then, while the moon was still up there, unbothered by the obscurity of clouds.