There is a spot next to the doorway of the old barn that is a snapshot of love for me. Passing by instantly brings me back to a moment in time that defines something about my relationship with David. We had been haying all day and it is hot dirty work. I suspect we had just finished unloading a wagon of square bales into the old barn, stacking them into every inch of available space from floor to rafters. A couple of folks would throw them from the wagon into the barn and a couple more folks would throw them up to someone who teetered on the top bales trying to find the best spot for each one. Sun shines through the empty spaces between the logs and the dust and hay float in the rays. Honeysuckle covers the fence on the other side of the hay wagon and David is leaning against it, drinking from an icy water bottle and wiping his forehead, leaving a line of dirt behind. His shirt is soaked and sticking to him, gloves shoved in his pocket. That moment in time: hot, dirty, clear bright sun, the smell of cut hay and salty sweat and honeysuckle, and looking across at him; is pure love for me. We were new to the relationship and I remember being so undone by the sense of belonging with him and this group of people. I remember believing in forever.
Now I sit in that spot and cry for the lost innocence. Is it possible to get that sense of a future back after it has been lost? How will I ever trust in some long stretching future again, knowing how easily and quickly it can be derailed? Am I sad for losing that future with David, for the innocence lost, or for the sense of belonging that I treasured so deeply? I don't know, maybe all of it. Maybe simply for that one shining golden moment when everything was possible.