Twirling.
Dizzy.
Breathless.
Her nut-brown hair, loosely tied with a pretty blue ribbon, was sailing out over her shoulders; her pink dress was likewise whirling in circles. She felt lighter than air; her feet were tripping over themselves in an effort to go faster faster faster. His big brown hands were around her slim waist, saving her from falling. They were dancing, dancing to the lively music. She could see his laughing eyes as he twirled with her. Oh, it was divine. There were masses of people around them, all dancing, all laughing. He was speaking to her, saying something funny. His head dipped down to hers, his lips were just in reach, and she leant up to him….
But it was fading, fading, fading. Nooo no no no no oh NO!
Dammit. She never swore, but she couldn't help herself. She clutched at the dream, willing it to return, trying to get back to that space, that time, that moment. She could almost hear the music, the feel of his hands, the breathlessness, and the touch of his lips. But it was tantalisingly just out of reach.
She'd had this dream several times over the years. It was a mixed blessing. The memory of it sustained her throughout her drab days, but it also brought to mind the desolation of a missed opportunity. Now that she was so brittle, forgetting him was a survival mechanism. She packed his letters away in a box far up to the top and back of her closet and into the very back of her mind. It didn't help to think of him too much as she went about her daily chores.
On this occasion, she found herself reflecting upon their long lost relationship. When had she first met John Blythe? She honestly couldn't remember; he was just always around. Their farms were located near each other; their parents were neighbours and friends. John was a couple of years older. At first, he was just an annoying boy, a friend of Matthew's. Someone she, as a young girl, had found infuriating. Boys were irritating, best avoided.
Later, as she matured, she was drawn to his gentle eyes, his sense of humour and his strong, muscled body. They found they had a love of nature in common. They started walking to school together. He would wait for her at the gate to the Cuthbert farm, even though it meant doubling back at the beginning of his journey. In the classroom, she sat across the aisle from him. Matthew had left school earlier, not having had much aptitude for it. He preferred to spend his time with his father, tending to the Cuthbert farm.
Neither of them liked school all that much. They were fine enough scholars, but the opportunity to take their education any further was never a factor. John had a farm to manage and Marilla would be a housewife. That was the natural order of things.
