I originally wrote this for a girlfriend who, regrettably, has now abandoned me. It seemed like such a waste to let this go unread...
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Our plans for tonight are spoiled; I wanted to treat you to a lovely dinner and a walk along the waterfront. The plane trip however wiped you out and you just needed a shower and a nap. No probs, I rescheduled while you were asleep.
I don't want to spend the day indoors, the weather is turning nice and you need to get out and see Seattle. While you were asleep I packed a day bag. We get into my car and we drive thru perfectly dreary residential neighborhoods until we reach wooded parkland. This is Discovery Park, a piece of wilderness in the midst of Seattle, unchanged from pioneer days. We park and walk to a trailhead. The path leads twisting down a steep slope, almost a cliff, down to the water's edge. Halfway down we leave the path and pick our way through the trees, until we get to an enormous cedar that guards a little clearing. At the base of the trunk is a little grassy patch, shaded by the cedar and surrounding smaller trees. From there we can see the water and beyond that the jagged snow-capped peaks of the Olympic Mountains. The late-afternoon sun is almost baking the vegetation, the air is perfumed with cedar and sage, and when the breeze is right, fresh salt air.
This, Lisa, is my secret place; this is where I go when I just need to get away from everything. I've never brought anyone else here. Until now I've always gone alone.
I spread the blanked on the grass and we sit down, I'm leaning against the trunk and you lean back against me, my arms wrapped around you. We sit in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company. It's so peaceful and quiet here. I love being here, nothing but me and you and the view and the wonderful tranquility.