Skinny Dipping

I drove right to it. It had been 29 years and I had not been on that road since, but I drove right to it. The rope swing was gone, but the old tree with its branch hanging out over the James River was unmistakable. I climbed under the recently stretched fence and walked to the river. I have, to this day, no idea why I drove there. I looked at the river and thought about the first time we went skinny dipping there. We had both attained the age of majority, but it was the first time I had ever gone swimming in the buff. Not hers. She was the one who knew how to get me there, she drove. She drove the relationship, also. It was, indeed the best ride I had ever been on.
We went skinny dipping three more times that year.
I have never been since.
I wish that rope swing was still there, I might have given it a try.
Did she ever go swimming in the buff in the Arkansas?
I’ll not go back.