Here Comes the Sun

21 | neptune

        ELEANORE ROLLS DOWN THE WINDOW, sticking her hand out slightly to feel the cool breeze against her skin as we drive down the road. It's both surprising and amazing all at the same time that I remembered the list and the number-well, some of them at least because she listed a lot of things that she wants to do. I don't know if we'll have enough time to do all of them by the end of the summer.

        But right now, I want to take the opportunity of this picnic as a way to make it up to her for things went that night. It may not be a big deal to her but...I feel like I should at least apologize.

        I park near the clearing of the forest, leading up to Lake Maple. It looks more vacant than it was last year when it came to spring break. I guarantee that it'll be packed during the summer. Perhaps, it's better this way with how clean and serene it is out here. There are colorful flowers leading down the path through the wooded area. Tall and healthy pines and sycamore trees stand over us. I reach around to the backseat, gathering the picnic basket before we get out of the car together.

        Eleanore lets out a gasp, covering her mouth with bewilderment. "Moggy, are we-?" I've never seen someone this excited about going to a lake before. "You remembered!"

        "It's on the list, isn't it?" I jokingly ask, closing the door. "From what I remembered, the walk shouldn't be too long. I hope you don't mind that, right?"

        "Not at all. Here, let me carry that basket for you," She gently takes it away from me.

        I nod before walking down the path and Eleanore trails behind me. The birds sing perfect harmony as we walk side by side. The forest path seems to be one of the greatest gifts that this small town has offered me in all of my twenty-two years of life.

        "So, you paint?" I ask her, remembering seeing paint spots on her face.

        "Oh, yeah! I can't promise you that I'm like Bob Ross kind of good but it's one of my favorite hobbies that I picked up other than photography." Eleanore replies, tilting her head. "But, before the painting shows on PBS, there was my dad. He loved painting until-until he stopped. I like to think that creativity seems to run in the family."

        I study her carefully as we walk. "I think that's amazing, Elle."

        "You think so?"

        "I know so."

        There's brief silence after that, it's consuming the both of us. Almost everyday with the amount of time we've spent together, I always learn something new about her. As the wind kicks in, the birds continue to sing their sweet tunes among us. A couple of minutes later, a large body of shimmering gray-green water appears in our line of vision. The trees stand tall above us with their shadows stretching nearly across the lake.

        "We can set up over here," I instruct, pointing to the area underneath a white oak tree.
        I take out the blanket and spread it out onto the grass. Luckily, there's enough shading here. Once the blanket is settled, we take our seating on it, placing the basket in between us. We set out the food and juice boxes in front of us along with utensils. "I don't know if you're a Pillsbury kind of girl but I settled on making these for breakfast or-brunch in this case." I nervously laugh.

        "Sweet! My aunt always made these especially when it comes to Thanksgiving. I'd always go straight for the biscuits instead of the turkey," She says, grabbing the first biscuit on top then tears it open. "Thank you for making these, Moggy."

        "Yeah, no problem," I give her a half smile as I do the same.

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