It was perfect, or at least to me it was. There was cool sand covering my feet (I wiggled it in, amplifying the chill that was pleasant compared to the stuffy warmth that blanketed the house). With two fingers I held my sneakers, socks stuffed inside.

There was just us - her, and him, and me - and the sky, a colision of blue and purple (pollution, no doubt) that stretched on and on above us, not caring who we were or what we were doing. Or what we were feeling. Or what we wanted to feel.

It just was.

There were no words for that moment, and veen now, it's hard for me to grasp them and just what it was - only the feeling could ever truly get in deep enough to leave the impression. There will never be the right syllables I can form to desribe to you the sound of the swingset as I swung in mid-air, slowing down with each swoop, or to tell you how wonderful the air was, not quite warm and not quite cool either, but just pleasant and good to breathe. It was poetry in motion. It was music, and it was heartbreak, heartmake, my heartbeat and heartbirth.

It was one of the most beautiful moments I'd ever felt.

Just her. And him. And me.

Three people, almost, three souls (in containers, lovely containers that we obsess over) together, there, or trying to get as close as we could, or at least I was. I dug my toes into the sand and watched her face through the blurred darkness placed over my eyes, trying to read her expression and understand it. Trying and trying. Wanting. Yes, I am human, and I will be selfish. I will be emotional, and stupid, and wonderful, because that is what I am - what we all are.

No, there certinaly were no words. But words don't always work.

And even if she was faltering, and his hat was down over his eyes, in my naivety or selfishness...

I was happy.