My Dream Date

I believe we have all been asked at some point or another what our "dream" date would be.

A certain boy asked me this very question a few weeks ago, and I really don't think he gave me sufficient time to answer him, so I had to quickly come up with something, it was quite unfair really. But now that the idea has been stewing around in my mind for a while I think I can finally do the question justice.

Hannah's Dream Date

A handsome boy, tall, with windswept hair pulls up in a beat up pick up truck. As he gets out he looks off into the dusky midsummer sky. The weather is cool and nice, perfect. He walks up the porch and knocks three times.

I open up the door and he smiles that crooked smile of his.

"Hi there sweet thing," he says as he hands me a boquet of dandelions that he picked from his yard only an hour before.

We walk down the steps and he opens the door for me. Always the gentlemen, that boy.

We drive on down the road and I begin to question him about what the plan is for the night. He informs me that it is a surprise. I then look into the back of his truck and notice that a tarp is covering a massive load. I question him again. He tells me that I'll just have to wait and see.

We laugh and talk and tell stories, and before I know it we are driving up the windy road of the canyon, windows down and the cool summer breeze blowing through my hair. He turns on the radio and we both begin to sing "American Pie" as loud as our equally terrible voices can possibly go.

Eventually we end up at a small lake, he pulls off the road, and comes around and opens my door. We then walk around to the back of the truck and he takes the tarp off the bed. Inside is a canoe, a small cooler and some fishing poles.

We drag the canoe into the lake, set bait onto our lines and begin to drift out into the water.

After half an hour of no success we decide to dig into the cooler. He pulls out some jars of homemade lemonade and a bag of cherries. We sit there and laugh and spit the pits of the sweet cherries out into the water.

What. What is this?

His bobber sinks down into the water.

Excitedly he grabs his pole and yanks it upward.

"I think I got one!!" he yells to me.

He begins to reel his line in, fighting. It's a big one.

Suddenly. Unexpectedly. The pole snaps in two and all hope is lost.

He looks at me with a shocked look on his face. What the heck? We both start to laugh as we look at his broken fishing pole. Eh, it was an old one anyway.

"Do you want to go on a hike?" he says to me.

That is probably a good idea, I say, considering your pole is broken.

So he rows us back to shore and we put all our gear back into the truck.

We then hike up the small dirt trail, and he points out an elk to me in the distance. We both get real quiet and watch as it runs off into the trees, and then set on our way again. We walk and walk until we end up in a grove of wild onions, the boy finds a nice big rock and we both sit down. We talk for a while and then it gets quiet. The silence is nice. He looks down at me and pulls a laffy taffy out of his pocket, and then proceeds to read to me a super lame joke. I don't mind though.

Soon it is time for us to head back, as the sun has begun to sink low and it's best if we aren't caught in the woods after dark. We begin walking down the dirt trail and he reaches out and grabs my hand.

Eventually we reach the car. We both climb in and he turns on the country station. I hold my arm out the window and let the last bit of the warm night air blow against my arm. He looks at me and his eyes crinkle up and he smiles. I smile too.

Cheesy, yes.

But perfect too.