October 22, 5:30 A.M.

    The sun is rising like a soft, warm orange in the eastern sky. While it may at first appear to be no different from the countless sunrises that have welcomed each day for a millennium, I am sure there has never been one of this intensity before. Andy walked into the circle of light thrown out by the fire just as the first flames were reaching the crown of the bonfire. The words we exchanged were few. I told her how I had walked barefoot across a bed of burning embers in a very faraway and distant culture. She told me her father was a fireman. We kissed by the fire for many minutes. Then as if our minds were the same, we got up and walked out of the circle of light into the darkness.

    I do not know where it was that we made love. We ran into the darkness away from the flames. I believe the sound of running water could be heard. We reached a spot shaded from the moon by several large trees. We kissed. Our clothes seemed to fall away without the slightest touch. We lay in tall grass that seemed to wrap around us, covering our bodies like snakes. Her body moved and swayed next to mine as though we had been together for more years than either of us had lived. A stick jabbed my right buttock, causing a momentary halt so Andy could apply some firm pressure to stop the bleeding.

    We then continued, exploring every part of each other until the moment that I slid inside her. My mind turned to dolphins slipping in and out of the surface of the ocean as we swayed and rolled together. At that point I realized we had moved down a small embankment and into a small body of water. Andy then began to scream "Yes! Yes! Yes!" with a conviction of purpose and vocal power that I have never witnessed. I don't remember much of anything after that except that I was sure I understood what it was like to break the sound barrier.

    We lay for many minutes clutching each other in the shallow water before I realized that the lights I saw reflecting on the water's surface were not the stars, but tiki lamps illuminating the Haverford and Bryn Mawr faculty barbecue celebrating the joining of our two schools on this special evening.

    We then with some difficulty managed to evade several curious members of the physical education department who had come to the water's edge, thinking that someone was drowning. We quickly dressed, then Andy informed me that this very morning she was leaving for an exchange trip to Holland and said she would look me up when she finished studying dike construction . . . in six months. She told me not to follow her because she was meeting her husband at the airport.   I do not claim or pretend to understand the world. The sun comes up. The sun goes down. That is all that appears certain from where I sit at the moment.