It was 1994 and I had convinced her to walk with me all the way down the Wildwood beach. I had scouted a location at the very end of the sandy isle that looked out over the western bay as the sun went down. When we got there I busted open a bottle of wine, a simple merlot, I had smuggled from a friends liquor cabinet and we proceeded to just knock back the bottle without the use of glasses. It was so simple of a moment. Blazing orange sky, complete innocence, and an overwhelming sense of peace. We just sat there watching the tide and sharing banter back and forth and the occasional odd but oh so nice incidental contact. The kind where someone could touch your elbow yet you feel it everywhere in your body. The slight breeze coming off the ocean called for me to wrap my shirt around her as goosebumps rised over her skin. And we just sat there, kissing, groping, snuggling after awhile and finishing a bottle of "borrowed" wine wondering if we'd ever get the chance again to be right there in that moment.

We never did.

I left Wildwood the next day like I did each of the previous 5 years there. Wondering if I would ever get back to that point on the bay at the southern tip of the island the next year. I never did, but I think it's high time I did and I know just with who too.