We sat in the treehouse, our arms intertwined, one connected to the next like a string of musical notes. Our breaths were in synch, a perfect orchestra: inhale and exhale, all at once. Our hearts in time with one another like the beating of timpani drums. I remember feeling that this was it, that this was what heaven sounded like. Never could we be separated, forever together in a chorus of merriment, one big beautiful symphony of love. And yet, I remember how warm that day was, how peacefully quiet the breeze sang as it whispered between the leaves, the gleeful, contented feeling that came with its serenade. And the rush of joy, loud as a crescendo, that crashed over our bodies and into our souls.

The day we sat in the treehouse.