Wild Onions
By gina below
The vibrant green of the early spring grass was a sight for sore eyes after the long wet winter and the pungent smell of the wild onions made me smile. It took me back so completely to my youth and the countless times my siblings and I had played in the fragrant spring botanicals and clovers. I could not stop myself from scanning the ground for a lucky four leaf clover. But my eyes were drawn to a more impressive sight, one much more treasured by me than any four leaf clover would ever be.
He lounged on the sloping grassy hillside, the breeze moving his dark hair, the sun warming his beautiful face. I slowly took in the sight of him, appreciating the natural grace that emanated from him even in rest. He supported himself on one elbow; his long Levi clad legs stretched out and crossed at his booted ankles, his back to me and his eyes scanning the woods just beyond our pasture. “Come sit beside me” he said in his deep southern drawl never turning his head and I laughed. He waited until I had ungracefully lowered myself beside him to say, “You know I can always feel you” and then he handed me a small bouquet of wild flowers that he had been gathering in anticipation of my arrival. I smiled at him and his thoughtful gift, yes I knew very well what the air felt like when he was near. “More than likely you heard me lumbering this way” I said with a laugh as I placed a hand on my ever increasing belly where our child grew beneath my heart. He smiled and laid his hand on top of mine, even if he had heard me he would never say. Some things are better left unsaid as my Mother use to say. Tact is a dying art, and a good man knows when to not say some things.
We watched the trees move in the breeze and the clouds that floated above them for long comfortable silent moments before I succumbed to the warmth of the sun and the weariness of my body. My eyes slowly closed and sleep descended upon me. The seconds tick by into minutes and the minutes turned into an hour, and the fluttering of my eyes brought with it bright sunshine and the realization that I had been sleeping. I turned my head to look into his beautiful blue green eyes, “I fell asleep” I apologized. “You were tired” he corrected. The thought of moving did not appeal to me so I didn’t. “Did I snore” I asked? “Not much” he laughed, and I knew this probably fell under the category of questions I most likely did not want to know the answer to, so I smiled my concession.
There were countless other things he could have been doing, I was moved to know that I had taken priority, and he had stay to protect me while I slept in the sun with the wild onions and clovers and the feel of spring surrounding us. He handed me the bouquet of wildflowers that had slipped from my hand while I slept, now held together with a long green wild onion artfully knotted. He was in no hurry to be anywhere but where he was and we watched the clouds float across the sky as the afternoon shadows grew longer. His natural grace showed as he rose to his feet and he offered me his hand and gently helped me to my mine. We headed home through the late afternoon sun and the wild onions.