Under the soft silver of the moon

A couple of years ago, I shared one of the most unexpectedly beautiful evenings of my life with someone special.

We’d seen each other around before familiar faces in familiar spaces  but we hadn’t truly spoken until that day. Something just clicked when we finally did. She smiled and said, “Would you like to meet outside practice sometime?”
I hesitated for a moment more out of surprise than doubt but something in her eyes made me say yes.

That evening, I already had somewhere to be, but I figured it would be quick  maybe an hour at most. We met up, and she suggested, “Let’s walk along the beach.”
We slipped past the thick trees that separated the world we knew from the shoreline, and just like that, everything changed.

The beach was nearly empty, quiet except for the sound of the waves washing over the sand. We walked, side by side, no destination, just conversation. Time moved differently there  I didn’t notice it passing. I remember her looking out at the sunset, completely caught up in its beauty.
And there I was, caught up in her.

It was such a perfect evening, one of those rare moments where the world falls silent and your heart fills the space instead. The sun disappeared beyond the horizon before we realized it, and soon, night fell.
We hadn't kept track of the path we’d taken. In the soft silver of the moonlight, we were completely lost and somehow, it didn’t matter.

We kept walking, up and down the shoreline, still talking. And somewhere in between those moonlit steps, our hands began brushing against each other  gentle, unspoken touches. There was something electric in it, something magnetic. A quiet urge pulled me toward her, not just to hold her hand, but to hold that moment.

She was teasing me about something calling me ridiculous in the way only she could and I just listened. Her voice mixed with the rhythm of the waves, and I didn’t want to say a word. I wanted to remember it exactly as it was: her laugh, the breeze, the moonlight on the water, the feel of her hand almost in mine.

I didn’t care that we were lost.
All that mattered was that she was there.