The Metal Tin Box

We couldn't talk, summer was just around the corner, and I was afraid we weren't going to see each other until next school year. Ever since that night in November I'd been terrified to talk to her mom. If only she'd understand why I missed my best friend. How would summer ever be the same?

Then one day she found it in her basement, a metal tin box hinges and all, the size of a shoe box. She carried it to school and laid it in my arms. This is where we could be, all we had ever needed was words. I had missed her letters, her cursive, the small letters l-o-v-e at the bottom. This wasn't the first time we had written to each other secretly. Before this we had journals, full journals. Journals full of love. Journals that we snuck into each other's backpacks, the only way we could talk. Nothing could stand between us and our friendship. Two journals that held the words: hers, mine, and ours.

Barefooted, I took the metal tin box and walked on sun-beaten pavement: 43 paces north, 35 paces west, 72 paces north again. I took it into the park and planted it in a place where no one would ever find it.

Where trees grew as thick as a jungle,
Where sunflowers had no limit.
Where dirt, nor sky could be seen.
Where creeks entered tunnels of concrete and trees.
Our kind of place.
A place just for her and me.

Almost everyday I wrote her a new letter and walked to the park, through the wild grass and into the trees. I would open the box, grab her letter, and leave her mine. Walking home with my eyes submerged in her letters and words. I bet all the girls and boys thought to themselves, "I wonder what he's reading."

A month of words, a month of letters, a month of drawings for her.
Eventually I missed her voice, her eyes, her smile, and I needed to see her.
On a Sunday, after I put a letter in the box,
I sat in the grove of sunflowers with my feet in the creek,
and I waited for her to come check the box.
Minutes became hours,
Morning became afternoon,
Then I heard her bare feet brush against the flowers.

Unstoppable smiles, glistening eyes,
Our feet in the water,
Toes in the mud,
Leaves stuck to our ankles,
We stood and walked through the creek.

One hand holding her dress,
The other held in mine.
We entered the tunnel of trees,
And the water grew deep.

I carried her when it rose above above her knees,
Out of the creek and up the hill,
Over thistle and through weeds.
Every painful step was for her.

I set her down and there we sat in the soft, wild grass.
With the sunsetting behind the trees,
We talked and watched as deer grazed around us,
Thats when I realized I've never been happier in my life.