He was awakened by the early morning sun. The desert grows cold at night without the asphalt and concrete of the city to hold in the heat. He wondered how early it was. It always amazed him how, without the shelter of walls and a roof, the sun seemed to rise so much earlier in the morning.
He could feel the remainder of the late night still in his head. He knew he hadn't slept as long as he would have liked. He was up early enough that the hangover was still a few hours away. He still felt good and he might as well enjoy it while he could.
His face felt warm and his body was comfortable under the blanket. The ground was firm but didn't yet feel hard. How perfect a spot it had been for them? Totally alone, the warm fire keeping them warm as they slowly intoxicated themselves on the cold beer, smooth pot, and each other. He thought what a perfect getaway it had become and how they really had to find a way to do it more often.
He could hear the cicadas buzzing. Somewhere in the distance he heard the different birds of the Sonoran desert. Funny, he thought, how these weren't the sounds of the desert to him. These were the sounds of the golf course. Three cheers for suburban development. There was a steady sound in the background. It was the stream they couldn't find the night before. They had to just miss it.
He stood and felt the cool air on his naked body. He loved being able to stand in the glory of god with nothing but what he'd given you. He remembered, before they had come up with the idea of zero lot line homes, how he would emerge from his shower on summer mornings, out the back door, and let the sun dry his body. Now the two-story home built right behind theirs pretty much prevented him from the joys of being nude. (Something entirely different from being an exhibitionist, he thought to himself, proud of the significance of his insight.)
She had to be close by. He saw her boots lying beside the blankets. Her jeans were still on the folding chair next to the last few dying embers of the fire. Her shirt was there too, his flannel was gone. He heard a slight change in the steady babble of the stream followed by the feminine "whhhooop" of a woman who had just discovered how cold water can be without being frozen. He pulled on jeans, commando style, and his boots. The only food to be found, he was extremely hungry, were marshmallows. He filled his mouth and his hands and went looking for her.
She wasn't far. How did they miss the stream? He came up behind some brush. The desert turned green when it found water. The mesquite grew tall and lush. Even the little bit of altitude they had gained driving up from the city was enough to sprout a thin line of Cottonwood trees on each bank. The sun was low and came through the trees in horizontal rays of light and shadow. The stream sparkled orange and yellow. Stones and rocks, worn smooth as marbles, glowed as if chromed in the morning sun. Standing amid this glorious wash of light and color was a goddess, his very own angel. She was his, and in that moment, he knew both true love and ecstatic joy.
He knelt down in the stand of trees. He wanted to watch her, had to watch her. He was not a letch perched under a sorority window. It was deeper, more intense. Like the early Greeks turned to stone for watching the rituals of their gods. It was stronger, more primitive, like a cougar studying the movements of his prey. He was paralyzed with the look of her in the gold, crimson, and silver morning.
She lowered herself into the water. He watched her shiver as she sunk slowly into the one pool deep enough to take all of her into its cold swirling water. For a moment she was gone. Her head dipped into the crystal water. In the daylight he could have seen her clearly, holding herself under the water. Now, with the sun at its sharpest angle, she was gone, hidden beneath black and silver ripples.
Slowly, she rose into the day. Like the sun behind her, she moved so slowly you couldn't see the movement, only the progress of her rise into the warm light. Small trails of water rolled from her shoulders. She was in silhouette against the backdrop of white and black trees. Green, gold, yellow, and orange, traces of blue sky surrounded her. She was a dark and glorious cut out on a radiant and moving backdrop.
