The Myth of Boyhood - Love in Limbo

The Myth of Boyhood
 
    My grandparents are still alive though feeble. We have dinner and from there I go to the neighborhood forest where I played as a child. My quest is to dig up a time capsule I had left under the ruins of treehouse when I was a wee lad. Therein lays the story of the boy I once was. If the memorabilia is well preserved in the Tupperware box then the artifacts of my lost youth may be the key to my future.  
     But when I arrive at the entrance there is a young lady lying in a lawn chair. She informs me that the property is private and I can go no further.
     But she is very friendly and scholarly. We discuss Zen philosophy like Buddhists who share a bookish sense of life on that beautiful day in the woods.  
     Finally, our Chautauqua leads her to sit next to me and rest her head on my shoulder like a nun who seeks a different road to enlightenment. She looks at me beseechingly and says, “I am the guardian of your boyhood relics. But you are now a man. I have been lonely here as the keeper of your past. Please make love to me so that I can know the man you have become. Follow me.”  
     “I thought this land was posted. That was a trick to keep me with you long enough to charm me.”  
     “A girl’s got to keep a few tricks up her skirt.”    
     We climb down the ravine to the pool of water sunk in a slick bowl-shaped hole in the clay. I breathe the rich smell of decaying leaves and moist clay. Sunlight blinks through fern fronds that hang from red clay walls. Water trickles down the chute and falls lyrically into the oval pool. Droplets splash melodically into tea-colored water.  
     “When we were kids we made a mudslide here. We slid down the bluff into the pool we made with a clay dam” I share with her.  
     “Now our games can be more daring” she grins. “My name is Goldie. The heavenly king zapped me into this limbo where I’ve waited for decades for you to release me. Apparently, he thought my purpose was better served as your dream maker.”  
     “You seem familiar to me, as though we’ve met before.”  
     “I visited you in your dreams many times. Remember the recurring dream you have about your childhood sweetheart? Well, I took her form in your night visions.”  
     I wrap my arm around Goldie’s waist. I tell her, “We’re almost there. You are brave to follow me here. After all, I am a man.”
     Goldie slaps me on my denim bottom. “Don’t say that, John. The forest God might mistake this for a non-consensual encounter and turn me into a tree to protect me. Then I’d be stuck here forever. Such a fate is daunting.”
     “I wouldn’t even think of forcing myself on you. That is not who I am.”
     Goldie says, “I knew that. The tree nymphs and I just needed to hear you say it.”  
     The years have slid by in surreal procession. My incipient awareness of my aging grows. The bliss of my newfound nymph brings me a soft smile. The gnarled roots of trees intertwine with each other in an exquisite nature tapestry. They are a vision of hope in this twilight of my middle age.  
     We silently climb the out of the ravine. I slip my hand under Goldie’s skirt to push her derriere as she climbs a bluff. She says, “Thanks for the boost.”  
     “Chivalry has its rewards.”  
     The ivy-covered forest floor resounds with crickets chirping, frogs croaking, and a blue jay singing. Rays of sunlight filtering through the green leaves of the trees make golden splashes on the ivy. I fill my lungs with cool dusk air redolent with the smells of dirt, grass, and flowers.  
     The trail leads us to the treehouse we built as children that decays in the forest solitude.  
     Goldie looks misty-eyed. Late Afternoon sunlight casts shadows through the trees. Shadows crawl across the ivied ground in patterns of coal like dark clouds. The trees are silhouetted like ancient Titans who haunt my world with preternatural beauty.  
     Goldie says, “This is strange. It has never been night here all these years. I wonder what the heavenly caretakers of this preserve are up to. Do you mind if I undress for our night? I need to feel the breeze.  I won’t be able to sleep in the heat otherwise.”  
     “I don’t mind. I think I’ll do the same. But let’s keep our underwear on.”  
     Goldie says, “John the darkness is a relief from the endless sunshine. In fact, I like it. It feels romantic.”  
     I hug her to my chest. “Let’s disrobe and feel the wind.”  
     We slip out of our clothes and curl up on the soft ivy forest floor. She says, “Are you ready to get dirty?”  
     “Yes, sleeping in this mud will get us dirty.”  
     She says, “You know what I mean silly.”  
     “I’ve always wanted to try mud wrestling with a woman.”  
     “Not just any woman, I hope.”  
     “Only the woman of my dreams.”  
     “Well since you’ve met me plenty in your dreams that girl would be me.”  
     “My, you are bright tonight.”  
     “You know it is mighty pretty out here. Maybe I should keep my virginity and stay here.”  
     “Let’s make whoopie.”  
     Goldie says, “I knew you’d come around.”  
     I say, “Yes let’s play like husband and wife.” She slinks out of her panties. I slip out of my fruit of the looms.  
     Her touch is the rich earth that nourishes my roots. Her body is the open flower craving my pollen. She opens each petal of my heart with gentle persistence and lays bare my center. She gently cradles my most secret self holding the vulnerable egg of my deepest feelings. She tenderly strokes my center. The lilt of her words falls like gentle rain upon my sensate being. Each syllable is full of the sweet nectar of her ardor as I sow seeds of love in the garden of her soul.  
    In the distance, I hear an engine revving up. Goldie says, “John, I hear cars. I never heard that here before.” Goldie falls asleep with her bottom pressed into my groin.  
     We awaken to morning light peeking through the trees. Goldie says, “John, I hear a dog barking! Let’s dress and explore.”  
      We walk hand in hand through the gate and into the neighborhood. Goldie says, “Thank God almighty free at last! It was an honor to protect your relics but oh man never in a million years would I have imagined how wonderful it is to feel you upon me!”  
     “What is the first thing you’ll do when I take you home with me?”  
     “The first step is yours to propose to me.”  
     “Why wait until we get home? Will you be my wife?”  
     “Do you hear the meadowlark? Such birdsong is a sign of our fruitful union.”