On the road, map in one hand, a warm palm in the other. Driving open spaces between tall trees and oceanside cliffs. Stopping for make-shift coffee and sightseeing, exploring caves and woodland lakes. By night, dinner under the stars, sweet charcoal burns bread under our noses - and above us, the greatest of all. Wide expanses of velvet night skies lit up by the gods. Filling up gas and munching on chocolate in stolen moments. Feet up on the dashboard, singing wildly along to Otis Reading and Johnny Cash. Photos of palms and feet and fingers intertwined - of stubbled chins and treasures picked up along the way. Rocks, woven blankets, flowering buds from roadside breaks.
Auckland to Wellington, backpacks filled with snacks and juice. Soft wool jumpers and adventurer shorts, hiking boots, dirty jeans and waterproof coats. My camera around my neck, grasping like a child to capture perfect moments before they're just memories. Dipping dirty converse toes into warm rivers and showering under the moon. Sightseeing monuments and mountains, sub-tropical northern seas and colder, jumper-filled blanket nights. Just me, and him, and thousands of twinkling stars.
