It's a late Sunday afternoon at the finale of the summer. There is not enough time left to appreciate the relaxation that summer brings; the teenagers and children are all trying to get their one last exciting adventure before it ends. But it's too early to return to school; although the teachers are already back, preparing for their fresh, new class of students for the upcoming school year. The sun is on the verge of setting, blends of deep blue, like the purest water drizzling from a mountain spring, and violet, just the shade of a fresh lilac in the spring, fill the sky. The temperature is just right, although I'm able to feel a noticeable difference, and the night, I can tell, will be cold. The air is crisp, and filled with traces of the many emotions I am experiencing. Love, pain, regret, sorrow, hope. I approach that face that I've known so well for these past two years. I see him sitting there, at our usual meeting spot, deep within the forest by the riverside. We've met there every day this summer; its enchanted beauty has been magical for the both of us. The day is perfect; the river flows so calmly and peacefully, minding it's own business; the trees flow gracefully in the light breeze, and the animals scurry throughout the forest without a care. As I approach him, he throws his arms around me and wraps them tightly. I do the same. We kiss; but it's not just a casual kiss of greeting. No, this kiss possesses every single ounce of passion that we've known since the beginning. It's soft and warm, even comforting; like a big fluffy blanket on the coldest day in winter. I taste his wet, salty tears the instant our lips part. I look into his eyes and try to analyze his every thought. When they say the window to a person's soul is through their eyes, they aren't kidding. I see love, I see fear, I see anxiousness, I see regret; I see so many things. It's almost as though our love is a flower; and it's blooming again at this very instant. It's like when a daffodil blossoms, and you know spring is just around the corner. That's what love is. A blooming flower that signals to you something magical will soon be in your presence. Eventually, those flowers have to die though, in the dead of winter, but they always return the next year for the same ritual. And do they ever really die? If you think about it, these flowers are just obscured from sight for a while, safe at home under the ground, preparing for their welcome back in the spring. The same goes with love. Just because you can't feel or see it, doesn't mean it's not still in your presence, not waiting to be welcomed back into your life. Imagine a whole field of flowers. Roses, Daffodils, Lilies, Lilacs. Anything you can dream of, drifting off into infinity. You collapse onto the warm, soft ground, flowers surrounding you, and gaze up at the sky. There is not a piece of man made machinery for miles and miles, nothing but mother nature herself and you. The wind blows softly and whispers, almost as though it is trying to speak to you. What would it say? Perhaps it would tell you enchanting stories of the peace it has witnessed throughout these few acres of undisturbed land. As you are pondering these thoughts, a doe and her fawn walk across the path in front of you. They do not seem to notice or even care that you are in their presence; they lower their heads to the ground and nourish their bodies with a few bites of green grass. You turn your head towards the direction from which they came, and see a whole group of fawns friskily playing with one another. These creatures are so carefree, roaming throughout the countryside. This miniscule spot that has somehow been missed by contractors, by builders, by architects, is preserved for now. It's almost as though it has been brushed aside so that you may be able to live this moment and understand the peace and love that such a landscape can bring forth. These experiences, you see, are the very ones that we live for. Because when we cannot find love within our own families, communities, schools, or workplaces, mother nature will always take us into her hands and provide us with the nurture we so long for. This love is the purest of all, imbedded in the hills and in the streams, always calling for us to come and receive it.