Iceland Unfolding

I glance at you from the passenger seat. Your chestnut hair rests in the nape of your neck where it meets the collar of your fleece. Your hand taps the wheel to Fleetwood Mac’s Everywhere quietly playing from the radio. Outside, the road unfolds ahead of us as we snake along the southern edge of Vatnajökull National Park. Atop its peaks rests a tongue of ice: Europe’s biggest glacier. Everything underneath lies forever frozen.

I want to be like this glacier, to hold this moment forever.

The car glides along the asphalt. In the rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of the rising sun. She illuminates all that surrounds us: the mountains, painted a vivid mix of peachy pinks and oranges; the coastline covered in a bright yellow and orange glow. Below, the icy, dark waters of the Atlantic lie in stark contrast to the baby blue sky above: it reminds me of home, of summer, of you. 

I recall sitting on the stained brown couch in my old flat. None of my flatmates were home so we claimed the space while the afternoon sunlight spilled further into the room. With the windows open, we curled onto the couch, snuggling and giggling the way only new lovers can.

I remember your slender fingers tracing the tattoo on the small of my back, your suede voice like liquid honey in my ear, “Why don’t you come? We’ll go, just you and me.”

Your words lingered in the air as we daydreamed the rest of the afternoon away. Your hand had started to trace my Icelandic coast, slowly winding its way up my back and along my shoulder blades, down towards my slightly tanned thighs. That is… until we heard a key in the front door. We scrambled for our clothes and rushed towards my bed.

“We’re almost there,” your low, soft voice draws my focus away from the vast landscape of my memories, “what are you grinning at?”  

The wind cried outside our mud-covered SUV. It is February now, but the memory of that August afternoon keeps me warm. That and your right hand on my thigh as you drive us towards another glacial lake; Iceland outstretched ahead and behind us. 

“Just lost in thought,” a grin climbs up my cheeks. You squeeze my thigh. 

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