We lay beneath the open sky on a tangled weave of coats and a cheap red tartan picnic blanket we instinctively purchased at the gas station on our drive out here. Thankful I insisted upon taking my Land Rover and not his truck on this spontaneous trip of ours as the winding, irregular road would have not been kind to my behind. The soft murmurs of guitar rifts ooze from the sound system of my car and seep out into the thick silence that sheaths these woods surrounding us. The sky above glitters and glistens with an explosion of a billion stars. Something we’re not privileged to behold thanks to the bright artificial lights of our overpopulated town. It’s utterly beautiful and blistering cold out here, but I don’t actually mind that my toes feel like they’re frozen solid. I dramatically complain about the dirt and the invisible bugs I know are lurking around us, beneath us and probably above us too. Feeling like it’s my duty as a girly girl to groan about the pains of camping. Slightly too embarrassed to let him know that truthfully, I don’t mind sleeping out under the stars. Even if that means I won’t have an outlet for my hair straightener or a nearby Starbucks for my morning caramel latte craving. The bugs however, truly do make me uncomfortable. Just the thought of their possibly lurking bodies near us creeps me out more than what may dwell beyond the adjacent trees. I relish watching as he rolls his eyes and laughs at my theatrical outbursts, sighing my name in loving exasperation as I pretend to squirm with discomfort and slowly wriggle my way into his arms. He welcomes me by draping an arm over me and further pulling me in closer. He points up to shooting stars trailing and blazing their way across the skies above and we watch in silent awe as the magic unfolds. Revelling in the complimentary light show and taking in the natural brilliance of Mother Nature herself for the rest of this night.