By Elizabeth Purvis

Perfect moments are hard to come by, but this was close enough. 

See that’s the thing about living in New Zealand, your own back garden is yours to explore, and you can find rivers, lakes, beaches, anything, completely empty of people. 

Blair and I had just stumbled through the weed and rubble of my new backyard, and somehow had stumbled just far enough to find a rickety pier overlooking a perfect, clear lake. Blair smirked. This was his ‘I’m impressed but I don’t want to show it’ smirk. Grinning, I tore across the matted grass and sprinted on to the creaking boards. I gazed over the lake, its surface so still and flat it resembled a mirror. “This is perfect.” I breathe, stunned at the sight in front of me. It was so deathly quiet, I forgot Blair was even there. “Wow.” He muttered. I turned, flashing him a luminous grin. “It’s just…..perfect!” I exclaim, throwing my arms out and spinning around, tripping on the scratchy grass. The ground is coarse and dry, scratching my back. Blair saunters over to the pier and settles on the end of it. He’s so tall that his legs brush the end of the faded wooden stilts, toes dangerously close to dipping in the water. 

I jump up, kick my jandals off and go to sit next to him. He gives me a light shove as I sit, getting me off-balance and unnervingly near falling off of the pier. I squeal as he grabs my arms just in time, sweeping me back on to the sturdy slats of the old pier. I splash him to get my own back. And then, there is silence. No talking, no splashing, just the pure, clear sound of the outdoors. I close my eyes, taking the purity in. I know it won’t last long. I open my eyes again and look at the view. Everything that meets my eyes just screams perfection to me. The sun is beating down, there isn’t a cloud in the sky. The lake is perfectly clear, and my best friend is right next to me. It’s the most perfect, serene moment, and it can’t get any better.