Our Love In The Light

We only get thirty minutes of sunlight. Every day, people wait. Wait until the sun comes out so they can finish their barely started projects of the days before. Oh we have artificial light. We live our lives in artificial light. But it’s easier to read a book or take a test with a flashlight, much easier than trying to plant a garden or work on the car with the same. But I’m different. Others wait until they can plant roses. I wait until I can see his eyes. Because there’s just something about sunlight that brings a whole different look to things. Especially him. Especially his eyes. I love a lot of things about him. But what I love most is his eyes, in the sunlight. They’re the color of burnt umber, and when the sun comes out it catches the flecks of color in them. So, as many days of the week as I can manage it, I hurry out of the house near the sunlight hour. We have a meeting place that’s close to both of our houses. Proximity is important when there’s only so much daylight, and only so far you are willing to travel alone in the dark.

Today is one of our meeting days. And I’m so excited. We haven’t seen each other in two whole weeks, for various annoying reasons. The longer we are apart, the more he invades my thoughts. If that is even possible. There are times when I allow myself to daydream about what it would be like to be together all the time. But not often. There are far too many people would try to influence us to stay apart, and yet so few precious reasons why we should stay together. But I can imagine no future without him. 

And that reminds me of one of our more bittersweet pieces of history. One of the pieces of history that we all learn and yet somehow never forget. Of course, it has to do with sunlight. That’s one thing we will never forget. Back in our distant past, we had to make a choice. Stay where the light of our existence is slowly burning out, or, move. Some would say that is an easy choice. Life over death, always. But things aren’t always that black and white. For one, we weren’t sure why the sun was dying. And for another, even moving wouldn’t completely guarantee life. There was and are, so many variables. Trying to move millions of people to another planet, is an almost insurmountable task in itself. Building a new life on said planet, is another. However— the planet that was most hospitable, was close to Earth at that time. It was a now or never kind of choice. And we chose, what was for some people, never. We chose to stay. They knew that the planet would be back, in another few hundred years. So they gambled on us still being around by then. That choice made some people very angry. But not me. Because I remember another piece of history. During the talks among the world leaders and scientist, one had stood up to give a speech in favor of staying. And what he said stuck with me, though perhaps not the exact wording. In essence, he said that there are some things we could never bring with us. We could never bring our past. We could never bring the monuments and the graves of places and people who built our world for us. So even though we would be gaining, we would be losing a great deal as well. I am in no way likening our relationship to a dying sun. But I do know that to give him up would be giving up the person who has done so much to shape my present . And in shaping my present, has shaped my future. 

As I hurry down the path, I carefully direct my flashlight and watch my steps. We are close enough to the sunlight that I can start seeing the slight hint of a change in the sky. I walk faster, because I don’t want to waste one single second of daylight on something so unimportant as the journey. Finally I round the last bend, and in the white light of my flashlight, I see him. Pacing the small grass covered meadow, holding his own flashlight. And then the sun comes out. I click my flashlight off and shove it in my jacket, and then I run to him. Laughing, he picks me up and twirls me around. 

“Is this a second rate romance film?” He murmurs as he sets me down, with the smile still in his voice. 

“No, this is better” I whisper. “This is better, because we have sunlight.” I reach up and place my hand on his cheek, and he tilts his head and just looks at me. We look at each other for a long time. He breaks the silence then, with a question. 

" Do you ever wonder what it was like?”

“What what was like ?” 

“Before. When they had all the daylight in the world, to stare at their lovers face.” 

I drop my hand and stare at him without speaking. Because that simple question hurts too much. He reads my expression, and not waiting for my answer, he leads me over to a log and we sit down. Holding his hand, I finally answer softly. “I try not to wonder. Because wondering just makes me unhappy.” He sighs slightly, and replies, 

“If time travel were real, then I would take you back to those days. And we could live in a nice little house somewhere in the mountains, and play music and write poetry and stare at each other.” Leaning against his shoulder, I murmur, " You would get bored staring at my face.” 

“Never.” He replies simply. It’s then that I notice his hand for the first time. Or more specifically, his ring finger. Grabbing his hand, I inspect the simple obsidian band. “You wore your ring.” I say. 

“Of course. I knew I was coming to see my wife, so why not wear the symbol of my devotion?” He arches his eyebrow playfully. 

" You weren’t afraid someone would see it?” 

“There are times when I feel that I am not afraid of anything.” 

I sit up and meet his gaze full on. “When can we tell them?” 

Instead of answering my question, he hugs me. And I remember the beginning of our relationship. The first time I saw him. The first time we saw each other in the real light of day. 

Holding me close, he finally whispers, “Maybe during the next sunlight.”