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"
Time
to
visit
the
optometrist
,
"
I
muttered
.
His
smirk
grew
more
pronounced
But
then
,
after
another
hundred
yards
,
I
could
definitely
see
a
lightening
in
the
trees
ahead
,
a
glow
that
was
yellow
instead
of
green
.
I
picked
up
the
pace
,
my
eagerness
growing
with
every
step
.
He
let
me
lead
now
,
following
noiselessly
.
I
reached
the
edge
of
the
pool
of
light
and
stepped
through
the
last
fringe
of
ferns
into
the
loveliest
place
I
had
ever
seen
.
The
meadow
was
small
,
perfectly
round
,
and
filled
with
wildflowers
-
violet
,
yellow
,
and
soft
white
.
Somewhere
nearby
,
I
could
hear
the
bubbling
music
of
a
stream
.
The
sun
was
directly
overhead
,
filling
the
circle
with
a
haze
of
buttery
sunshine
.
I
walked
slowly
,
awestruck
,
through
the
soft
grass
,
swaying
flowers
,
and
warm
,
gilded
air
.
I
halfway
turned
,
wanting
to
share
this
with
him
,
but
he
wasn
’
t
behind
me
where
I
thought
he
’
d
be
.
I
spun
around
,
searching
for
him
with
sudden
alarm
.
Finally
I
spotted
him
,
still
under
the
dense
shade
of
the
canopy
at
the
edge
of
the
hollow
,
watching
me
with
cautious
eyes
.
Only
then
did
I
remember
what
the
beauty
of
the
meadow
had
driven
from
my
mind
-
the
enigma
of
Edward
and
the
sun
,
which
he
’
d
promised
to
illustrate
for
me
today
.
I
took
a
step
back
toward
him
,
my
eyes
alight
with
curiosity
.
His
eyes
were
wary
,
reluctant
.
I
smiled
encouragingly
and
beckoned
to
him
with
my
hand
,
taking
another
step
back
to
him
.
He
held
up
a
hand
in
warning
,
and
I
hesitated
,
rocking
back
onto
my
heels
.
Edward
seemed
to
take
a
deep
breath
,
and
then
he
stepped
out
into
the
bright
glow
of
the
midday
sun
.
Edward
in
the
sunlight
was
shocking
.
I
couldn
’
t
get
used
to
it
,
though
I
’
d
been
staring
at
him
all
afternoon
.
His
skin
,
white
despite
the
faint
flush
from
yesterday
’
s
hunting
trip
,
literally
sparkled
,
like
thousands
of
tiny
diamonds
were
embedded
in
the
surface
.
He
lay
perfectly
still
in
the
grass
,
his
shirt
open
over
his
sculpted
,
incandescent
chest
,
his
scintillating
arms
bare
.
His
glistening
,
pale
lavender
lids
were
shut
,
though
of
course
he
didn
’
t
sleep
.
A
perfect
statue
,
carved
in
some
unknown
stone
,
smooth
like
marble
,
glittering
like
crystal
.
Now
and
then
,
his
lips
would
move
,
so
fast
it
looked
like
they
were
trembling
.
But
,
when
I
asked
,
he
told
me
he
was
singing
to
himself
;
it
was
too
low
for
me
to
hear
.
I
enjoyed
the
sun
,
too
,
though
the
air
wasn
’
t
quite
dry
enough
for
my
taste
.
I
would
have
liked
to
lie
back
,
as
he
did
,
and
let
the
sun
warm
my
face
.
But
I
stayed
curled
up
,
my
chin
resting
on
my
knees
,
unwilling
to
take
my
eyes
off
him
.
The
wind
was
gentle
;
it
tangled
my
hair
and
ruffled
the
grass
that
swayed
around
his
motionless
form
.
The
meadow
,
so
spectacular
to
me
at
first
,
paled
next
to
his
magnificence
.
Hesitantly
,
always
afraid
,
even
now
,
that
he
would
disappear
like
a
mirage
,
too
beautiful
to
be
real
.
.
.
hesitantly
,
I
reached
out
one
finger
and
stroked
the
back
of
his
shimmering
hand
,
where
it
lay
within
my
reach
.
I
marveled
again
at
the
perfect
texture
,
satin
smooth
,
cool
as
stone
.
When
I
looked
up
again
,
his
eyes
were
open
,
watching
me
.
Butterscotch
today
,
lighter
,
warmer
after
hunting
.
