Chapter Sixty-two

THE ANDERCHRONICLES

By Me, Ellee

[WARNING: The following story has been rated FNF*]
*Fiction NOT Fact

"Cherry Blossom Delight"

Indeed . . . why was I waiting? I had to open that little black velvet box sooner or later, and sooner or later I would discover what lay just under the hinged lid. So, I took a deep breath, kept it for a moment, then released it slowly as I stared at the container in my hand. Then my eyes found Andy.

“Go on, open it,” he coached.

Yes, go on, open it, I urged myself. But, I reasoned, wasn’t Andy supposed to open it and place the contents on my finger, asking me the most important question of his entire life—and mine? Okaaay, I finally concluded, maybe he was as uptight as I was at that moment, and even a little flustered and just didn’t think about it. But as I studied him, he didn’t seem uptight at all. In fact he appeared quite relaxed. Consequently, I decided to proceed on my own, but with fingers proving all too inept right then, since I was quite nervous, I was unable to get it open on the first two tries. On the third try, however, the lid suddenly sprang wide open to reveal my future.

Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh! —and there it was! My beautiful diamond ring. Andy was giving me a diamond ring! I gasped. I was soooooo excited, I squealed out loud, and starting skipping around. And I’m sure my eyes were simply dancing with pure delight as they sparkled and shimmered, reflecting the exquisite joy bouncing around inside my whole nervous system. “Ohhh, Andy!” I cried, “it’s beautiful! It’s beautiful! It’s BEAUTIFUL!”—however—as my eyes cleared from the fog of excitement, and I was able to catch a more accurate view, the diamond seemed to be . . . now don’t take this wrong, but . . . well . . . actually very tiny and small . . . and quite petite . . . and . . . and little. I even squinted, hoping that would somehow make it larger, but it didn’t—in all reality, it was just a teency, weency diamond, more like a chip, like the kind you get when you open an account at a bank with new money, and it comes in the mail thirty days later.

But, I told myself, Andy had given me lots of diamonds—all of which were much, much larger than this one, so I decided that size doesn’t matter, and I quickly plucked it out of the box, slipping it confidently right onto the ring finger of my left hand, holding my hand high for Andy to see —BUT, much to my chagrin, it wouldn’t go on . . . AT ALL, not even after I shoved and twisted and pushed, again and again and again. It simply wouldn’t go past my first knuckle. That’s when I looked up helplessly at Andy, who, by that time, had a slight smirkle curling on his lips.

“Andy,” I pleaded, “it doesn’t seem to fit. I . . . I think it’s too small.”

“Of course it’s too small, Ellee!” he replied, snatching it from my finger, and dropping quickly to his knee once again. Once on the ground he picked up my left foot and placed the ring on my middle toe, which was peeking through the end of my sandal. Then standing up he patted both my cheeks, winked and chuckled, “that’s because it’s a toe ring!” The toe part he really emphasized, highlighting it with his teasing grin.

“Oh!” I was finally able to utter— after choking on my saliva when I gasped, flushing twenty-five shades of all-out, absolute, full-scale, sweeping, and comprehensive embarrassment. “I knew that !”

“Ah! Yes, my little Ellee. I knooow you knew that! That’s why the color of your face at this exact moment is . . . well, shall we say . . . competing with the hue of those bright red cornflowers over there?” His grin had spread itself from ear to ear, but didn’t stop there. It went right on to light up his eyes and increase the depth of his dimples.

Embarrassment continued flooding my skin, and I obviously had no appropriate comeback, fearing anything I might say would only intensify my humiliation, so I did the only thing I could—I moved closer and batted my long eyelashes up at him somewhat demurely, hoping this would distract him. It did. Then he slipped into an Andersquint, flashing his Carribean blues intensely at me, and for a moment our gazes got all trapped in each other. As a result, I think he mostly forgot about that little, ummmm . . . teeny, tiny misjudgement on my part. At least that was my hope.

Two minutes later he grabbed my hand, telling me he had another surprise, and off we ran, him pulling me along after him, me following, until at last we arrived in a grove of the most spectacular cherry trees that were literally exploding with millions of delicate pink blossoms. What an extravagant display of springtime magic that was! Billowing clouds of fluffy pink surrounding us on all sides, our eyes feasting on this cherry blossom delight. But Andy didn’t slow down at all, he kept right on running.

“Where are we going, Andy?”

“You’ll see it in a moment. It should be . . . right . . . over . . . there. Yes, there it is! Do you see it now?”

“I do! I see it! Ohhhhh, Andy, I love it!” I bubbled over, having forgotten all about the embarrassment of only moments before, now pulling him along after me, as I ran to the white swing hanging from a tall cherry tree right in the middle of the grove.

He wasted no time scooping me up, and then gently set me into the swing, declaring,

“I do hope you like to go high, Ellee, because this swing can go higher than any swing you’ve ever seen.”

With a twinkle in his eye, not waiting for any response from me, he grabbed the swing behind me, and backing up as far as he could go, he pushed with all his might, launching me into the air, causing the pit of my stomach to take flight and then dive suddenly as I swung back toward the ground. When I reached Andy he pushed again, sailing me even higher. This continued until I was flying so high I virtually reached the sky, and the exhilaration made me feel like it was possible to take wing with the birds, soaring and swooping high above the earth.

With each push, the tree groaned and quaked, unleashing an avalanche of pink snow flurries. I giggled as they flew all around me, softly striking my face like butterfly kisses and momentarily adding pastel polka dots to my white, four-tier eyelet skirt, which billowed behind me on the way up, and fluttered like wings on the way down.

Andy heard my squeals of delight, and I heard his each time he sent me to the top of the tree, and then again on the way down. I could tell he was having as much fun as I was. “See, I told you it was high! Are you having fun? ”

When at length he quit pushing, the swing gradually slowed and came to a stop when he tugged on the chains. After slipping his hands around my waist, he lifted me out of the swing and told me,

“I have something else to show you.”

“Another surprise, Andy?”

But he only smiled, and his eyes glistened and sparkled as he took my hand in his, interlocking our fingers. Then he squeezed my hand and pulled me onto the cobblestone path which led us deeper into the grove.

As we made our way along the path, a carpet of pink beneath our feet, he asked if I was hungry, and after replying that indeed I was—actually, ravenous was the word I used, he assured me he would take care of that before too long.

Once again I couldn’t help but notice what a perfectly wonderful day it was. Everything was coming together just like in a fairy tale—only better. I knew it was definitely springtime magic, and being such, probably wouldn’t happen exactly like that ever again. If, however, we were lucky enough, or if we were in the right place—at the right time, or wise enough to recognize the gift, there might well be other special moments given to us. Only, they would be of a completely different nature, and with another set of elements, totally unlike the ones we were experiencing that day.

I realized then how important it was to fully savor and cherish each of the little elements while they were unfolding—even to recognize that they were happening—like the just-right temperature of the sun on my skin, or the color of the light at that time of day and the way it made me feel, and how it caused the cherry blossoms to be a million different shades of pink; like the gentle breeze tossing my hair across my face, allowing a pleasant whiff of apple-scented shampoo to waft under my nose, and Andy’s, too; like how the sun was causing his little tuft of hair to flash and spark as we passed in and out of the dappled sun shining through the leaves as we walked.

I wanted to make sure Andy was paying attention to all of this, so I tugged on his hand to stop.

“You’re getting all this, aren’t you?”

“All what?” he asked.

“All this,” I looked around and motioned toward the sky and sun, and waved my hand in the air like the wind.

He cocked his head slightly to one side and raised an eyebrow, then began waving his hand in the air like I was doing. “ You mean . . . this?”

“Yes, Andy . . . this . . .” I answered, now waving both hands, and then I ruffled my fingers through my hair, and brushed his little tuft of hair, “. . . and this, too.”

“Oh, this, too?” he grinned, also waving both hands and then ruffling first my hair, and then his.

“YES! That’s it! You get it, don’t you?”

“Ellee . . . NO . . . I don’t. I don’t get it. What are you talking about?”

“The Gift. That’s what I’m talking about. It’s all around us. You know, springtime magic?”

“Ahhhhh yes, of course, springtime magic—it is all around us,” he confirmed, scooping me into his arms, “and I have an armful of it right now. And here is some more,” he whispered just before his lips came crashing over mine.

And there, under that dazzling canopy of flowering cherry blossoms, on a perfect day, with perfect sun and perfect light and perfect breezes blowing petals all around us, Andy kissed me perfectly with so much springtime magic it just took my breath away.

“There!” he at length said, suddenly setting me free, “What do you think of that magic?”

“Well . . . I . . . whoaaaa! I mean . . . yes . . . it certainly was . . . ummmmm . . . that good ol’ springtime magic, Andy!”

Actually, I was about to pass out from so much springtime magic. But I couldn’t tell him that. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat—a very pleased Cheshire cat! He then drew me back into his arms and began a discourse,

“Do you know what Sakura Matsuri is?”

When I told him I didn’t, he explained that it was the Cherry Blossom Festival which takes place each spring in New York City, and in various other cities around the U.S. He went on to say,

“O-Hanami, the Japanese cultural tradition of viewing and cherishing each moment of the cherry blossom season—from the first buds, to the luminous blossoms, to the waterfall of petals cascading from the trees, is a virtual rite of spring. Ellee, I think that’s what you and I are doing, right here, right now—just us, together.”

His eyes were so soft and kind and . . . and . . . oh my, they were sooo blue. How could they be so blue, I wondered? He continued talking, and I continued listening—that is, as much as it was possible, what with the blue eyes dancing so animatedly as he went on about this rite of spring.

“For the Japanese, the fleeting cherry blossom is a poignant souvenir of life in bloom, and a symbol of how transience the universe is, reminding us that we must cherish and appreciate the beauty in each irrecoverable moment.”

He does get it, I thought. He gets it completely. I didn’t need to wonder if he was paying attention. He had been mindful all along. What happened next was strange, but for a few moments, everything just . . . well . . . stopped . A hushed silence fell over the birds, the breeze, the trees—even the shower of pink petals stopped. Time had shut down for a brief period on that perfect day in spring, as we stood there gazing deeply into each others eyes. Let it be said, what we both saw and felt there could only have happened during this little window in time that springtime magic had given us. Then all at once everything started up again, the birds, the breeze, the trees, the petals—like nothing had happened, and then Andy said,

“Did you hear my stomach growl? I think I’m famished.”

So we continued along the stone path until we came to a clearing where a white and pink gazebo stood. Inside the lattice-work half walls was a small, white wrought iron table and two chairs. After climbing the three steps I looked around and remarked,

“Oh Andy, how perfectly charming! Is this the surprise?”

He beamed a smile, pulling a chair out for me to sit on and replied,
“It’s part of the surprise. Wait here. I’ll be right back with the rest of it.”

Before I could say anything else, he had taken off running through the trees and over the cobblestones until he disappeared. But it wasn’t long until I could hear him returning, and when he rounded the corner I could see that he was carrying a large picnic basket brimming with lots of something inside.

After taking all three steps in a single jump, he set the basket on a chair, humming as he opened the lid and took out a pink table cloth with scalloped edges, which he spread on the little table.

“Do you like picnics?” he finally asked, looking my way.

“Of course! I love picnics. What a great surprise! But why don’t you sit down, Andy, and let me serve you?”

I pulled him into the chair and began taking picnic items from the basket. There was a large bottle of San Pellegrino sparkling water, chilled; two crystal goblets; two small crystal plates etched with a lily design; a container of little pink finger sandwiches; large, fresh strawberries; carrots which had been sculpted into delicate little roses, and green and black olives stuffed with blanched almonds. But when I reached for the last container he jumped up yelling,

“Wait! Don’t open that yet! It’s also part of the surprise. You can place it on the table. Just don’t open it.”

So I placed it on the table, unopened, and sat down across from him, noticing he was starring at me quite intently, his chin resting on the palm of his hand.

“Is something wrong, Andy?”

“No, quite the contrary. Everything is very right, Ellee . . . well, except for one thing.”

“And that would be . . .?”

“Violins.”

“Violins?”

“Yes, violins. This is the perfect moment for violins. You know, boy sitting across from girl, girl sitting across from boy, both thinking how wonderful the other is, the interplay of their blue eyes setting off nuclear fusion somewhere in the universe, the many nuclei combining together, converting hydrogen to helium, the resultant nucleus becoming smaller in mass than the sum of the ones making it, the difference in mass being converted into energy. You know, the whole E=mc squared thing? ”

“Oh! . . . well yes, of course, Andy . . . Uhhhhh . . . what does that have to do with our picnic?”

“Ohhhhhh, absolutely nothing, Ellee, but . . .” he leaned over closer until our noses made contact, his eyes drilling mine, “ . . . go on, admit it! You would have said it, if I hadn’t, right?”

“I don’t know that I would have said that, Andy,” I answered, coyly batting lashes.

But there was one thing I DID know. At that moment, the close proximity of those blue eyes was setting off a nuclear reaction, and it wasn’t somewhere out there in the universe.

“Of course you would have! Now . . .” he reached in his pocket pulling out, not only his Ipod, but mine as well . . . “I just happen to have some violins.”

He had loaded our Ipods with Pachelbel’s Canon in D, Massenet’s Meditation, Bach’s Air on a G Sting, and many violin selections from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, which we listened to while eating lovely sandwiches and drinking sparkling water from Italy.

Soft breezes accompanying our springtime magic continued to send light and delicate petals floating over and around us, creating an idyllic and picturesque setting, along with sweet melodies given freely by blue birds and meadow larks. It was indeed a special gift for Andy and me that day, one I’m sure will remain a part of our permanent collection of memories forever.

When we had finished eating, he reached for the large, white box that had been waiting on the side of the table for us.

“Now for dessert . . .” he said, taking out his earphones and motioning for me to do the same, “. . . which we will eat . . . unplugged.”

He slid the box in front of him and opened the lid. After seeing what was inside, a smile of pleasure beamed across his face. Then he glanced up at me, his eyes reflecting that same pleasure. But he didn’t immediately reach in, instead he paused and said,

“This day has been one of surprises for you, Ellee, but I really saved the best for last. Are you ready for this?”

“I’m ready, Andy.”

I knew from the box that his last surprise had to be cream puffs, and I was indeed ready to dive right in to all that luscious, thick, whipped cream! I smacked my lips in preparation, and rubbed my hands together in anticipation. But when he finally brought them out of the box, I wasn’t really ready for what they were— not swans as I had expected, but something entirely unexpected. I would have never in 1.3 million years guessed—one in the shape of a deer, and the other fashioned into a lily. My astonishment was total and the look on my face must have revealed that emotion. I was literally speechless. They were so beautiful, so delicate and graceful, obviously created with great care and artistry. I looked up at Andy and all I could say was,

“Andy!”

And all he could say in response was, “Ellee, this isn’t the last surprise. There’s one more to come.” And his eyes grew serious.

Bye for now,
Love,
Ellee