Reading the Music

Falling in Love with the Seasons

I met a girl with straight platinum blonde hair that goes down to her waist and swishes with her walk. She wears overall shorts over her red t-shirt and white sneakers with buttercups intertwined with the laces and her hair. She is tall and slim and her tan makes her sky blue eyes stand out and all the boys at school watch her but they know that she is mine and I am hers. She often breathes the scent of strawberries onto my face as she laughs breezily to a joke I say, or something she sees. When she takes my hand in hers it is warm and I know that I have nothing to worry about. One day we go to the beach and I can't see her eyes with the hollywood sunglasses covering them, but I can tell that she is content. I lay down next to her and fall asleep to the seemingly unalienable rise and lower of her chest.

There is a girl with golden blonde hair that never seems to look the same. Somedays it is in loose curls around her shoulders, or two braids falling out of a beanie, a messy bun or an intricate swirl of hair that takes my breath away. You always know when she is near because of the soft but audible footsteps that come from her boots or converse. She has earbuds poking out of her cozy sweaters or in her ears at all times. One day I finally find the courage to ask what she is listening to in the bus ride home and she smiles and hands me an earbud. I lean into her and feel the soft fabrics of her sleeve. As she passes it to me I feel her cool hands and smell a marvelous scent of nutmeg and cinnamon. We ride the whole way home like that, her head on my shoulder and just us and the music.

I see a girl in the library every night when it's dark out and I come in from the snow and see her knee deep into a new book, already dry. She always wears matching mittens and scarfs, often blues, which makes me smile. Each day she reads a new book, and I want to ask her what they are about, or what she enjoys about them. Some days she is laughing, some days she cries, others she just leans forward into the book with a slight smile on her face, and sometimes all of them somehow at once. One day as she leaves at precisely 10pm with her almost white hair tucked into her scarf and her now empty coffee mug, I almost get up to ask her for her name.

I know a girl that wears tidy almost black hair perfectly any time of day and sun dresses on dates as stunningly as the the sun itself. She wears jeans and white blouses at home with the children that have her rosy cheeks and bright, piercing green eyes. Each time she guides them out the door in the morning with their lunch and a kiss on the forehead, I fall in love with her again. Her garden is well taken care of in a fashion that just comes naturally to her. One day I come out to join her in the crisp winds and clouded skies, and together we pull weeds and pat soil. After a few hours that somehow feel like just moments, we stand back to look at her work, my arm around her thin waist and her long, cool fingers intertwined in mine, dirt covering both of our palms and fingernails.

I got this inspiration from hannahsue-- writing contest but wanted to make something a bit different and longer. These are different stories of different guys and their varying relationships with the seasons. Happy fall!