The Note

The Note

I've wandered the Sierra Nevada many times. I like the ascent as my legs tire, my breath carrying a hint of iron. I love the exposed granite that embraces the small, glacial valleys. I appreciate the brilliant azure of the sky. I bath in sunlight. I listen to the music of life, wind and water. Up there where land meets sky, in the rarefied air, something of past travelers is sometimes left: a cairn, a name and date formed with contrasting stones, a tin can of scraps left by someone long departed. Evidence of kindred souls.

One day, I found you Dear Esmeralda. I found your note in a corked, blue medicine bottle, sealed with wax, barely glinting beneath a pile of stones. I opened your time capsule with apprehension but I convinced myself that I could reseal it. On your note, in flowing script was this:

¿Te encontraré amante?

[Will I find you lover?]

Cómo me duele y te anhelo.

[How I ache and yearn for you.]

Por favor ven a mí en otra vida.

[Please come to me in another life.]

Como lo deseo.

[How I wish it.]

-Tu Esmeralda, 1890

Your words set me afire. Your mind commiserated with mine. I hadn't spoken Spanish in decades but somehow understood perfectly. We joined together then, though I didn't realize it at the time.

Standing up there, a tiny cirque of ice below us in the shadowed North, a small meadow and meandering stream to the South, we shivered. We had to sit. Eventually, we recovered enough to reseal your missive. We carefully tucked it away. Pushing it further under the stones to hide it completely. It was no longer a part of you (of me). It had served it's purpose. It was now a mere artifact.

"Please come to me in another life. Not, please come back to me in another life. Not, will I find you again Lover?" I mumbled to myself (and to you).

We descended, carried in the same old vessel. We made our simple camp next to the lazy creek. We tossed in a mustard flower and several tiny, lithe trout greedily nibbled.

"Tonight's meal will be good!" I thought, mouth watering.

"Sí mi amor. ¡Delicioso!"

Forgive me, my love. I heard but didn't hear you. Even so, our goose-flesh rose.

We set our fire as the last of the sun descended behind the ridge. The juniper smoke tickled our nose. I thought long about you as we sipped our coffee and listened to the evening chorus.

"Who are you? I don't know you. You don't know me. How could I? How could you?" I rambled wordlessly.

On this, you were silent. Perhaps you were being patient. Waiting for me to catch on.

We watched Venus appear in the fading light. We briefly witnessed Mercury follow the sun over the ridge. We watched our galactic arm bloom.

I thought of you. I thought about the nature of your note. Was it you having a laugh? Were you hoping to spring a joke on someone? On me?

We crawled into our nest for the night.

I awoke lying on my back with you tucked in next to me, your hand flat on my chest, your head resting in the crook of my shoulder. Your silky hair was fanned over my arm. My hand rested on the swell of your hip.

"You're here," I whispered as a tear leaked out.

We lay there a moment, then shifted and shared our first kiss. You smelled of flowers and ambergris. You moved your leg up across me. Your touch ignited me. We kissed more and our breathing became rapid. I cupped my hand to your shapely bottom. I grew hungry, famished for more.

Slowly, gingerly I rolled on top. I kissed your soft, full lips. I felt the swell of your breasts under me. You positioned me at your entrance. I was suffocating in our heat. I let the blanket fall to my waist and the night air cooled us.

"Está bien mi amor. Tómame."

"It's okay my love. Take me." You murmured.

I gently plunged in but not all the way. I worked to stay there a moment. I felt you grip me. Your nails dug in and gave me chills. I felt you relax a little:

"Está bien."

I pushed in and stayed. You started gyrating and I tried to concentrate on holding it together. Our cheeks pressed together. You nibbled my ear. Your breath stunned me. Your legs wrapped around me and drew me in further.

When you again relaxed, I began to reciprocate. I pushed and withdrew with increasing fervor. You were squeezing and releasing me. Our tension built together. Soft cries issued from you, adding their musical notes to my bass. We got closer. Closer to each other and closer to release.

We crested.

I melted into you and you into me. Night creatures buzzed, chirped and croaked. Trout splashed in the stream. A pair of nighthawks boomed overhead in their ritual. The Milky Way shimmered above us.

"Christ!" I thought.

I feared I was alone again. We awoke to aching hips and back.

"It gets harder every year."

"Te ayudaré a llevarlo."

"I'll help you carry it." you answered mutely.

My dam broke. I cried like a child for joy's sake. So I write this note to you, my beautiful alpine emerald and we read it together.

-TQ

March, 2024