The air is crisp, fresh. The stars are some of the brightest I've seen. We're halfway through what we'll soon come to know as the best summer of our lives.
Jenny just returned from Estonia and since we met, her time away had been the longest period of time we've been apart. She arrived earlier this evening from what was intended to be a two-week volunteering experience abroad and had been shortened into something just short of a week away from home. Now that's what I call separation anxiety.
Lying on the picnic table at Star Lake under the midnight sky has become more than a frequent occurrence. The soft sounds of bullfrogs and peepers set off the silence of the small village fast asleep. It's the perfect setting for our lengthy talks that rarely stray from the singular topic of our boys, our unit. Our conversation consists of the usual banter about our progress with Wesley and Ethan, our new places to adventure together for swimming escapades, and other plans for the week and for our treasured weekends when no one has to go to their summer jobs. But it's alright. In fact, it's more than alright. The simplicity, the innocence and naivety, the authenticity of this summer together is exactly what we have settled into and fallen in love with.
Moisture slowly settles into the picnic table as the hour turns from midnight to one. "I can't wait to see Ethan tomorrow," Jenny sighs deeply against the chilled, dew-covered wooden boards. We don't know it yet, but Jenny and Ethan are going to be each other's first loves - sweethearts throughout high school.
Ethan and Wesley are brothers - and some of the best brothers I've met at that. This late at night, we can't get ahold of them because they wake up to work for their father's construction company practically at dawn. They're all tucked in bed at home - their parents, dogs, horses, chickens, ducks, etc - all sound asleep and unaware of Jenny's early return from Europe.
"You have no idea," I agree. "It's not the same hanging out with the boys without you." We've become a family of four and have spent literally every day together since the first day we met in the beginning of that glorious, sun-filled June. It's not a hard task to accomplish when you live in Belmont. Ethan and Wesley's ranch and Jenny's home (and for this perfect summer, mine) are on opposite sides of Belmont - a village within a town, made up of less than one hundred homes - and they're still less than a mile apart. Main Street is comprised of the General Store, a Baptist Church and a small library and there's not an inch of cellphone service to be found. That's the beauty of this little community. Our inability to contact the other half of our summer quartet adds to the suspense of the surprise reunion.
Our backs are getting damp from the now soggy picnic table and as we rise, we take one more look at the bright moon reflecting off the surface of our favourite little lake and the light fog that has set in.
"I'm so happy I'm home," Jenny smiles.
"Me too." And, even though it's walking distance, we drive back to Jenny's house because I'm sixteen and my license is part of my expression of freedom.
Now, all that is left for us to do is suppress our excitement and our anticipation for the day to come and somehow let ourselves settle into bed. But that same moon we had just been babbling under floods Jenny's bedroom window and only makes the coming of sleep that much harder.
[Teacher's Notes: There are some lovely passages here but also some confusion. What about introducing Ethan & Wesley earlier and also the town of Belmont? I like your description of the town but I don't know what part of the country it's in or why you, the narrator, are there. ]
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