the lovely april of her prime.

Somewhere along the 5 with its dry air and endless pavement, you reach a small vineyard. Planted in a rectangle of several hundred rows by several hundred columns, the trees grow and change slowly throughout the year. In the winter, you find their branches empty, all of their grapes stolen by the cold breeze. The ground in which the roots extend and multiply is muddy and uneven. In the spring, the leaves are bright green and small grapes are just barely visible as your car rushes past. By summertime, the leaves have decided to take on a rich evergreen that seems like it would taste bitter and invigorating. The grapes that cling to the smaller branches long to yield to gravity's force. Every few rows, you see grapes scattered across the dry, tilled earth. As I pass this field of wine grapes, I think of all of the times I have watched row lead into row and disappear into nothing at the end. It is a dream of mine to one day sprint through the long lines of trees and perhaps get lost somewhere near the middle. I will call out to whoever I am with, "Where are you?" And they will only respond with, "Right here!" I will say it again and they will repeat the same, vague words. Breathless and full of joy, I will collapse with laughter. My flowing skirt will spread out over the dirt where I have fallen, and I will wait. Perhaps in a matter of minutes, my adventurous and lively companion will come dashing through the columns and catch a glimpse of my red cheeks and windblown hair. Panting, my friend will settle next to me. The infinite trees will shade us from the sun's white light as we both lie back in the dirt. It will be silent except for the sound of our heartbeats in our ears. Even the cars that whiz past us in flashes of black metal will be perfectly quiet. I will sigh as I begin to regain my breath, and my friend will smile back with a quickly rising and falling chest. "We'll have to do this again sometime," I whisper. But I know we never will. Sometimes once is just enough.