After bumping along the dusty lane, he turned the pickup truck onto an overgrown logging trail. The bright day turned to twilight as the tall pines meshed to block out the sun. Weeds brushed against the shiney blue paint as there was little left except deep ruts to indicate where the trail had been. Suddenly the woods opened onto a clearing. He eased the truck to a standstill; he and the woman gingerly smiled at one another and got out.
She sauntered ahead and soon halted under a large oak which stood at the rim of the steep embankment. Her eyes dreamily made a panoramic sweep of the area before her. Lacy ferns, dancing in the dappled sunlight which filterd through the canopy above, carpeted the slope from her feet to the twisting silver ribbon of the brook below. The glistening water curled around the smooth stones, gurgled, and then dashed ahead leaping with glee.
It was mesmerizing. This had to be the glade her childhood sweetheart had described forty-five years ago. His vivid description had been so detailed that she felt as if she were returning there, rather than seeing it for the first time. It had aged gracefully. Time had only enchanced its beauty.
Lost in her daydream, she was astonished when she realized that he was standing behind her with his arms encircling her waist. He whispered into her ear, "Look on the trunk of the tree." There she saw the weathered carving on the silvery bark, LPY loves GCC.
Tears filled her hazel eyes even though she smiled. She remembered all the promises they had made when she had learned that her family was moving to the city. None had been kept. Life had lead them in opposite directions. There had been marriages, children, and now grandchildren. They had made no effort to stay in touch. But it seemed that life had come full circle for them. Both had lost their mates, and here she was at last seeing his beautiful, private Shangrali. She slowly turned into his embrace. At that moment she was fourteen again.