Trent turned and tossed his bag across his left shoulder. Not much packed, just a few shirts, jeans, books, and his mandolin with the lovely curved neck.
We clasped hands, gave an embrace; I wished him well on his journey and said something cliche but from my heart. Standing there with my sunglasses pulled up holding my hair out of my face, I watched as he disappeared into the train station. Immediately, I began to imagine his quiet ride in train car 7... I imagined our summer together... the trouble we'll get into and adventures that have not yet unfolded. I imagined music at sunset on the beach.. the pleasure of being half-naked lying in the sand, and feeling our muscles aching from a good surf - our hearts warm with laughter and faces filled up with peaceful grins.
I smiled as I jumped back up into the van.. what an excellent thought. My door swung shut, and I stared out the front window for a few seconds as raindrops started to splash across the glass.
I would love to bottle up the smell of afternoon showers.
We live in a world of stories; a world of ideas, of voices and prayers, poems and thoughts.. these simple, elegant, potent beauties.
I would love to capture a few... hold them like fireflies.. let them light up my mind.
Andrew Tipton
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