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Around some corners, there are edens, not of the bible, nor from lore of any kind. My little edens are reminders of the best I can live, and though part imaginary, part real, part future and part past, they are my most natural state of being.

Walking beside me, silent, radiant, a thoughtful smile dimpling her cheeks, we experienced the most natural peace. We glided when together. I turned to her one evening, having rolled in the grass like children, delivered, and though I didn't know it at first, shared her first bottle of wine after crossing the age barrier, and I told her I was crazy about her. We had looked deep into each other's eyes, wary of a hint of trouble, a crack that didn't already belong, but there was no trouble, no crack. She stopped and looked at me with love, smiling, and explained that she was flattered, but also had been voted the class flirt in High School. I smiled, and we both walked on as before. This little eden is one of few in my life not tainted by questions. I had no questions, no anxieties, and she wasn't waiting for me to speak, nor I for her. It was 1996 and needn't be qualified further.

Corners are hard not to meet with anticipation since then. I recognized the few before, and recognize those since, that have become memories of moments of my own bliss. Compartmentalization has come along now, regular hours, patterns, practical concerns that frustrate and scuttle the nature of my edens. There's no time to share, no reason, no space, because nature and truth are not allotted for - they're not decisions - they just are.

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