Low tide revealed a small cove; they met there one summer month in their youth. Neither spoke the other's language. But, in their innocence, a dialogue wasn't needed. Instead, one formed naturally in that place of purity. Playing in tidal pools, laughing, hands brushing upon sun-warmed skin, a smile that began to reveal more than words could. They returned each summer. The tides ebbed and flowed a hundred times. One summer when they met, as they did each year, he was no longer the pudgy child but a sinewy and handsome young man, and she was no longer in the cute girlhood stage but a beautiful woman. They sat crosslegged near the tidepool that had captivated them since their youth. Finally, he reached out and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I've longed for this," he said. "so have I," she replied, turning her head into his hand, catching it there so he would cup her cheek.