It was a cool, balmy day, the kind of afternoon where the echo of the wind through the trees seems to make a haunting melody. Mother Nature was playing a tune that could capture the soul, chill the mind, and soothe the spirit if you listened to the whir of the breeze carefully enough. The currents of autumnal air flowed through the forest, as well as through those long, silky strands of Ginny's long, curly mane. The setting sun, which was as golden as her hair when Gin first set herself down by the shore to reflect and relax, was now a technicolor spectrum of purple, orange and red. The chill caused what, just a few weeks ago, were the green leaves of summer, to fall, adding their splendid addition to what was now the multi-colored carpet of natural foliage.
This was the first time Virginia had visited her family cabin alone. She had left her husband, Bob, to watch over their two girls, so she could grab a much-needed break from the harrowing hours and weary weeks of work as a nurse at Mt. Sinai Hospital’s pediatric oncology ward. She just needed to get away from the hustling crowd of New York, and there was no better place to get respite, she figured, than in the woods upstate, hundreds of miles from the madding crowd.
As she sat at the water's edge of that forest, surveying the calm blue currents in front of her, her mind sort of slipped away into a never land of thought and spirit.
For some reason, the placid waves that swept over the rocks down below her caused her soul to become just as peaceful. It was a welcomed change from the tormentuous roller coaster of life back in “the city,” a very welcomed detour from the trials and tribulations of trying to stay afloat in a sea of confusion and a whirlpool of emotions back home.
Staring at the ripples flowing along the lake, Ginny harkened back to that last weekend at Boston U, before she graduated, when she and Tony made love on the hilltop overlooking Walden Pond. She could still hear the distant train whistle, and know how Thoreau could fall in love with the place, much as she thought she was in love with Tony back then.
In her mind’s eye-view, she could still see that 22-year old senior who wrapped her arms around the shoulders and legs around the waist of the Terriers’ hockey captain. Her body reminisced every inch of where he put his hand, his tongue, his hard-on, as they made passionate, spine-tingling and mind-boggling love for hours. Walden may have been just minutes from Lexington and Concord, but Tony was hardly a “Minute man” and when he came, Ginny could swear he did so with the force of a shot heard round the world.
The memories of those by-gone days blazed as warmly as the sun had when Gin first arrived at Lake Chittenango. Life seemed so much simpler then, so much easier, and happier. She wondered what happened to her Romeo, as much as she wondered what happened to the sparks that used to fly when she and Bob first met not long after graduation.
As she stretched out under that morning star to catch what she knew would be her last natural sun-tan before spring arrived next year, Ginny prayed that somehow, in recapturing the memories of lost years, she could also recapture he rlost youth. Sadly, though, as the warmth of the sun gave way to what was now a cool dusk, the nurse knew, alas, nothing lasts forever. Well, almost nothing does. As she closed her blouse and donned her jacket, the blond daydreamer was proud that she had done her very best to keep the figure she had when she was in her 20’s.
Her breasts, even in her forties, were still firm, still appealing to those who walked by. She snickered to herself that she may have even tantalized those who somehow might have caught a surreptitious glance of them from high above the hilltops over looking the lake as she had exposed them to the soft rays of the now-setting sun.
Collecting her blanket and sundry items, and playfully making some small stones she had gathered dance along the waves below, Ginny looked out at the horizon just in time to see the 2 in their small craft below come into shore. As the duo tied the boat to the dock, and took their fishing gear out, Ginny sort of welcomed the company. After all, they were strangers, people who did not know what her life back on the city streets were like.
Ginny was not sure how much of her they might have seen before she put her top on, as she had not noticed them before they came to the water banks. But, the more she stared at them, the more she hoped, if they had seen her, she had been a pleasant sight for their eyes. The red-headed sailor, she thought to herself, was surely a sight for hers. She couldn’t stop staring at him as she approached the rowboat.
Apparently, she reckoned, they had not seen her, because the pair started climbing the path towards the cabins without saying a word. “Catch anything?” she yelled out "My friend, Rod, did. Look at those beautiful babies. Me, not much, except maybe a cold,” the seemingly older of the two replied. “I haven’t gone fishing in these waters since my daddy taught me her how to catch my own dinner,” she said, just wanting to make conversation. It was nice to have company, to have someone to talk to.
As one thing led to another, before long they were all three engrossed in a discussion about absolutely nothing. Talking about the trivial things of life, rather than the ebb tide of life-and-death thoughts about patients that too often filled Ginny's brain, was as placid and calming as the water below. Ginny felt incredibly composed, and seemed reassured that life could be pleasant when you let it. She was so lost in thought, Ginny didn't notice the drop in their path that was covered by the clump of fallen branches.
When Ginny slightly lost her balance, Roddy, the dark haired, massively shouldered one of the two of them, caught her just before she fell, and steadied her. As he did, their eyes met, their pupils beginning to stare into each other’s.
There was something about this rust-topped he-man that simply made Ginny blush. Her face was turning as red as his hair. She hadn’t felt this way from merely looking into a stranger's eyes in a while. She struggled to dismiss the urges she was feeling, but the struggle seemed to be more and more in vain.
The way they glanced at each other was loosening some of her inner turmoil as much as the water loosened the rocks along the shore. Something in this young man’s eyes was working better than a Vodka and cranberry in releasing the tensions she had felt when she left home. .
"That could have been a nasty fall," Rod told her, "Maybe it's best that you lean on me the rest of the way."
Ginny couldn’t explain to herself just what compelled her to do so, but she did lean on this younger man, maybe 5-10 years her junior. She even found her fingers searching and finally interlocking with his as they made the uphill trek the rest of the way to her cabin for dinner. The older gentleman, Pete, seemed to take some unspoken clue from his sailing buddy and excused himself, leaving Ginny and Rod alone to dine.
