Mountain Picnic

I never liked sand. It gets under your fingertips, your hair, and all over your darn clothes. My mother is constantly telling me to “brush that filth” off my dress, but it is impossible in this desert town. As Adam and I are walkin’ up the path, I can feel the sand diggin’ in between my toes. We stop in a clearing to shake the sand out, and we peer over the small town. 

I don’t got any memories before moving here, I was a youngin’. When we arrived, mother had gone to work in the saloon. In exchange, the owner let us sleep in the back with the potatoes during the night. My sickly little sister came soon after. My whole life has been devoted to church, the saloon, and my sister. But one thing I was not devoted to was Adam, Adam devoted himself to me. Adam grew up down the way, in the apartment over the town store. His was one of the few families in town that could afford every meal. He always wanted to get out of the small town and see the world.

He stopped in his tracks and stared off into the distance. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothin’, just saw a pretty bird,” the wrinkles next to his eyes crinkled. He took off his cowboy hat and swiped the sweat off his forehead. 

“I meant to ask, what is in that basket you brought darlin’?” He turned and had that stupid smirk on his face. 

“You can see when we get to the top, until then, no peekin’ ” I laughed. 

“I guess we will have to go a little faster then,” he takes off running and laughing. Adam puts his hand on top of his hat, so the rush of wind does not blow it off. 

“Hey, you know I can’t run in this darn dress”, I start running with him, away from everything else behind us. 

Even though we were both old enough to be married—as my mother kept remindin’ me—we never wanted to tie the knot. He always wanted to see the world, and I always needed to provide for my family. We loved each other dearly, but both knew it would never happen. Our futures looked too different. However, I would pray by my bedside every night that we could be together. That my sister would magically become well, or that my mother would find a rich husband to marry. 

When we reached the top, I put out a blanket for us to sit on. You could see the mountains in the distance and clouds that circle around their peaks. The rest was fairly barren, besides tufts of bushes and vines on the ground. The sun was about to touch the mountain tip, and the birds were still chirping. 

“You should have let me carry that for you” he chuckled. 

“This is your going away picnic, what kind of host would be?” I pointed out. 

I brushed my dress under my legs and sat on the sandy dirt. I took out a jar of cherry preserves, leftover toast and two taffies I had found in the cabinet. 

“Sorry, I meant to bring more” 

“Don’t you dare be sorry darlin’, it’s perfect” he smiled.

He took off his hat, and put it on my head. I giggled as it fell over my eyes and the world became very dark.

“I’ll write to you every day little darlin’’ he promised, he lifted up the hat so he could see my eyes, 

“And I will write back. And when you find your beautiful explorer lady, I want you to send me a picture and a date for the wedding, so I can send a gift” I reminded. 

He smiled, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and stared into my eyes. 

“That will never happen, cause as soon as I make enough in the city, I am coming back for you, and your sister,and mom, and we are getting a house on the water.” He told me. 

He shifted toward me, and kissed me on the check. 

“I don’t want to leave you, desert flower” he murmured.

 I smiled and stroked his hair. It was blonde and curly, and a little unkept. His eyes were siring blue like the ocean I had only heard about in stories. 

We sat in silence and ate our toast and taffies. It was a comfortable silence, the type you search for your entire life. Everything felt still, quiet and peaceful as we looked out at the view.  

He put his head on my lap, and I continued to stroke his hair. My fingers wrapped around his curls like little rings. His breathing began to match mine. We watched as the sun set into the mountains. 

“What do you think the stars talk about?” I asked. Adam laughed. 

“What do you mean darlin’?” 

“Don’t you think they talk, with all that twinklin’ they do? They must love to joke.”

Adam sat up, looked me straight in the eye. 

“Maybe they talk about how funny that blue planet looks,” he suggested. 

“Perhaps, or maybe they talkin’ about how loud that damn saloon gets.” I exclaimed toward the sky. Adam laughed again, running his hand through his hair. 

“What time is your train tomorrow?” I asked. 

“I’ll be at the station at a quarter to ten” 

My heart sunk, knowin’ that by noon, Adam would be gone. 

“Ya’ll packed?” 

“I guess,” he shrugged.

“I hope you forget all about this darn town.” I told him.

“Yeah, but, never forgetin’ you Lizzabelle”. He smiled, and I smiled back. I put my head on his shoulder and almost fell asleep. 

We carefully trudged down the mountain. Adam insisted on holding the basket on our way down, claiming he needed the exercise. 

By the time we got back, the saloon was getting rowdy. The door kept swingin’ from the excessive bangin’ on the counters.

Adam turned and held both of my hands in his.

“I’ll write every day, and I’ll be back before you know it.” He told me. He kissed my forehead and walked back to his house down the way. 

Then it was silent again, but not the comfortable kind of silent, the kind of silent that you wish would go away.