Mt. Joy John meets me after class. “I know you're off work today. You should come with me. I’ve got a surprise.” The school is already in the middle of nowhere, a collection of dorms and halls on either side of the highway, with little else around it. We drive further into nowhere. We haven’t been dating long, about four months, but I’ve known him almost a year. I already know his face when I close my eyes - the gold flecks in his irises, the stubble, the freckles on his lips. I thought I was familiar with this area of Texas, so I’m surprised by the subtle change in elevation. We turn onto a narrow farm road, slowly climbing upwards, until there is a break in the trees that reveals a small vista. He pulls over. From the backseat he pulls out his camera. Mt. Joy. It’s not a mountain; there are no mountains in this part of the state. It’s just a big hill, surrounded by miles of flat land and trees. Still, it is gorgeous. I watch him while he works. Once he is satisfied he puts the camera away and holds me while we lean against the hood of his car. When we get back he walks me inside and his hands are everywhere. I can’t get enough. Years later I will look it up again, just to assure myself that it’s real. There it is on the map, it’s existence confirmed only by an old cemetery. Mt. Joy. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. ***We store these things about other people. And then what? I’ll never have to unlearn your rhythms 10:19 a.m. - 2023-06-03 |
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