Montague Down Memory Lane Begins

What's your favorite memory?
As the eyes close and the images appear, what is it that comes to mind? Only those times dear to our hearts. With things such as this, we can't control the rush of images. At the mere words, action no longer stems from impulse as our mind subconciously recalls what it deems the "favorite."

A bittersweet memory:
My favorite place.

The day is getting to heat as the two of us step out of her large house and out into the beautiful sunshine with her grandmother. We set off at a brisk pace, and I find a lovely expanse of trail before me. We race to the top of the steps, the sun beating down upon us. At the top, all around me, I can see above it. Past the tops of your house and out into the beautiful purple mountain sides around us. I can see snowing beginning to form at the tops, despite the summer heat. We spend minutes and minutes up at the top, running in circles and panting while we wait for your grandmother to catch up with us. One tiny white flower amidst all the yellow catches our attention. The lush expanse of tiny yellow flowers beneath us is wonderful and the echoes of our voices enrapture me like no other sound. The joy in our voices echoes past us into those beautiful mountains, repeating on and on like a chorus. And being up there, I love it, surrounded by nothing but nature.

Looking back on it, I can't help but miss you. Yes, I miss you.