mmc 7 – the trail
w4m – 26/40 – Pen-y-ghent
You pulled me up the last 10 feet of Pen-y-ghent. Me: crazy old rucksack, purple pullover, braids. Weather was closing in, and lots of people were trying to get to the top. The rocks were slippery, and everyone was helping the person behind them. I’m not sure if you remember. It was 14 years ago.
I’ve changed, but not that much. The guy I was with – I married him. I’m widowed now. I remember your lean, suntanned legs, your Irish sweater rolled up to the elbows, and the way your arse looked in those shorts. We talked about you on the way down, discussing what we’d like to see you get. He voted for the cane, as usual, but I rather fancied seeing you grit your teeth over the birching block.
Your weather-blown strawberry blond hair made your eyes look like they were laughing. I can still feel your grip as you hauled me up, rucksack and all. What is it about feeling a man’s strength that raises the pulse, even more than a steep climb in the teeth of a downpour? When I topped that crag, you pulled me into you. Our eyes locked, you grinned, and I thought you would kiss me. All I said was, Thanks. You said, Sure, cheers. I haven’t thought of that day until now. Fourteen years – lifetime – no time. I rather fancy being hauled up something again.
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August 21st, 2009 at 4:47 pm
“Fourteen years – lifetime – no time.” Not a wasted word, you say so much with so little. You can have no idea how much I wish you happiness.
cdm Reply:
August 22nd, 2009 at 9:48 am
Aww, what a lovely thing to say. Warmed my heart. Thank you!