That laugh kept me seeing him, through both our idiotic moments. I remember the exact date he said it: June 27th, 1976. I had left my corporate job to join the host of caravans chundling around the British countryside, and at night we sat around campfires singing songs of peace and free love.

That night, we sat up in the single bunk we shared after a demonstration of free love. Around us, other couples – not all bound by love – continued their own loving as we talked in hush whispers.

“I think I love you,” he whispered.
“I know I love you,” I grinned back. The smile just happened as soon as he said those words.
“This is better than free love,” he laughed, loudly.

“Hey!” came a mellow voice from another bed. “Chill, guys, we’re tryn’a have a li’l fun here.”

I pushed my lips close to Matthew’s ears. “Let’s take this somewhere else,” I whispered, and we clunked out of the caravan and into the starlit field.