It was chilly outside but not the kind that increases with the darkness until you’re so cold that you forget who you’re with or where you’re walking. It was sweatshirt weather; the trick was to keep moving and as far as I was concerned, as long as there was sidewalk ahead, I could’ve kept walking forever. Given the chance, I probably would’ve, but I had a 6AM flight to catch the next morning and the night just didn’t seem long enough.

I spotted her perched on a sidewalk bench under a streetlight and away we strolled.

Melbourne was still a new place to me, bursting with so may intricacies and marvels that my wide eyes undoubtedly labeled me TOURIST to all observant bystanders. But I didn’t mind; the shy smile on my face gave me away. A steady current of city nightlife carried us down several traffic-choked veins before dumping us out onto a winding riverside footpath with front row seats to a shimmering skyline.

It was dazzling, one of those rare occasions in life you wish you could bottle up and refrigerate for later to relive its wonder. The Yarra River pulled fancy dining boats draped in twinkle lights downstream at a lazy pace as hushed laughter and the clinking of crystal spilled out from somewhere onboard. We sat by the water and drank in the evening. A few brave seagulls chose to spend their time on the sidewalk eyeing our ice cream versus hovering over the food court stealing trash or whatever it is they do. Everything in front of my eyes appeared 20% clearer, the night was deep, the world looked brighter than I’d remembered it a few hours before, the dull city ambience hummed clean and pure in my ears and I had to remind myself to keep breathing because it was all too breathtaking. There are moments in life when you find yourself wishing you were somewhere else (for whatever reason, good or bad), but on this night, there was nowhere else on the planet I would’ve rather been. It was flawless. So we kept walking.

Tall stone pillars lined our side of the river and burst big plumes of fire up into the sky on the hour. Over thirty feet away, I could feel the flames warm on my face and it felt good in the brisk night air. I’m a Minnesota boy and she was an Australian girl but we both felt the cold burn in our fingers so we moved on and continued walking. The ornate hotel fountain we found was glorious. How do they get water to jump across the room from one spot to another in perfect streams of green and blue? We explored a treelined avenue washed in soft lavender, a network of garden paths under a heavy scent of flowers – everything seemed to twinkle and sparkle in the low light and it was all so captivating.

I liked the way we both knew the same words but said them so differently. There’s something quite musical about Australian accents, I’ve always thought so.

We slowly made our way back across the bridge, back through the city the way we came, and suddenly we were back where we started, saying shy goodbyes although it felt like we’d only just said hello. And then just like that, she was gone.

In the elevator on the way back up to my room I remember taking a deep breath and thinking, “Wow… I’m never going to forget this night.”