1972
“You can’t try and walk down two different roads; look to both of them to bring you home . . . ”
The sound of two acoustic guitars rang out into the still air, giving the fireflies a tune with which to go about their nocturnal dance. The voice--strong, clear, and male--pierced the cool evening, filling the small porch with a warmth and light all its own. The small ranch house and its two occupants sat on the vast plain, a small pool of light in the immense blackness.
“You must take your own way, though it is the long way and sometimes you find yourself alone--”
“I know,” another, higher-pitched voice sang. “This all happened once before.”
One of the guitars stopped; after a few seconds the other stopped, but the second voice continued to sing. “Sometimes you think ‘I’ll wait’ but, he who hesitates is lost; this is not just a game. It’s the problem of creation and only meditation can make your mind and age . . . the same. I know--this all happened once before.”
Mike scratched absently at his beard. “So you’ve decided to sing now, huh?”
Andi smiled. “Why should you get all the glory?”
“How’d you learn the words so quick?”
She placed her guitar on the seat next to her and stood; the porch swing creaked slightly as she departed. She removed the guitar from his hands and set it down on the stand next to him. He leaned back slightly on his stool as she lowered herself onto his lap and looped her arms around his neck. “You’ve been mumbling them in your sleep for the last three days, and you sang it about four times straight through in the shower this morning.”
He chuckled, blushing slightly. “I’m that obvious, huh?”
She stroked his beard. “Yes . . . delightfully so.” She curled her body slightly, her head finding its usual spot--nestled in the gentle slope of his neck. He lifted his chin, his beard tickling her face. “You know, that song reminds me . . . “ she said softly, her voice trailing away.
“Reminds you of what?” he prompted.
“That road trip we took we took about five years ago.”
“Hmm . . . I don’t think I remember that one.”
She chuckled, the sound sending faint yet delicious vibrations through him. “Oh, you remember this one. It was about a month after I came back . . . just the five of us . . . we were going to head out into the sunset and see what adventure we could find. Sound familiar?”
He sighed, his eyes squeezing shut at the sudden rush of memories. “Yeah, I remember. Only too well . . . ”
On to Chapter One
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