The Distance

The sky had turned to a pale auburn when he realized that he had been staring out of the window for hours. As he removed his gaze from the reflecting panes, looked down and noted the disarray of papers and a solitary number two on the table in front of him. He summoned himself to walk outside the kitchen door and sat on the weathered oaken bench next to the red cedar balcony railing, confirming that the sun was sinking below the horizon.

Across the Blue Ridge Mountains, along the Great Valley, she walked through an unkempt, lush, fading green ground cover, toward her favorite spot in the back yard. Under the dark brown maple tree, now bursting with autumn colors, an ancient swing hung; old, but as sturdy as ever. It was from that swing she first imagined them sitting together, watching the fading light of the day.

It was from his vantage point on the porch, toward the eastern sky, that he knew he would get his first glance at the ascending moon. He also knew that she would be looking in the same direction, from miles away, and see what he saw. That their love would soon connect through a distant moonlit embrace.

She steadied her lovely, graceful legs to push against the worn patch of ground to begin the slow arcing motion of the swing. Lifting and rising, letting her head roll back to free the onyx ribbons of her hair. She allowed her coral lips to push a faint smile to her full cheeks. As the celestial goddess grew closer into view, she felt him. He was near her, around her, and inside her.

He leaned on the bench his back touched the smooth logs of the cabin wall. He took in her presence, as if absorbing her into his soul. the warmth of her alabaster skin brushed against him; the scent of her perfume enveloped him. It was as real as the moon’s quiet promise; to always rise, to always be there.

In the full darkness, interrupted only by the creamy white light of their shared moon, they stared, they dreamed, they loved.