Suddenly Secondary Pt. 1

We met again at the big swing dance. I was pleased to see she remembered me after all these years. The mind has a way of erasing names and faces long past to make room for those more important. Our eye-line crossed and tangled up.

Hi, I'm Jack. We met years ago. Do I look familiar?

A smile spread quickly across her face, melting me in the parking lot in a pool of my own affection. They say love strikes a man when he least expects it. The trick is to act quickly, gripping the reigns intently yet delicately to become a welcomed rider and not one thrown from the saddle.

It was summer camp, correct? What was that, twenty years ago?

Twenty minutes or twenty years, it didn't matter, as she was in front of me, fully grown, a woman carrying the thing that spread my brain across the pavement, exploded my head, and she wasn't even trying. There was something about her I just couldn't deny, like her very existence was a justification to become good and leave behind my rambling ways or at least try to do so. They say all a man needs is a reason. All a man needs is a good woman, and he'll find his way.

Look at us and how old we've become.

She shined a smile, her smile, her smile like a laser beam blasting a hole through my forehead. I was ultimately at her will and did my best not to show it. She wore three thin bracelets, a short black dress, and bright white socks popping from underneath her Mary Jane's. And oh, how I was taken by the mane she wore, hair flowing, draping down to her mid back, with three thinly braided ponytails, a style of hair I can hardly recall ever seeing before, the bright pop of color all over like a sandy beach, gold, gold like strands of wheat. She had two eyes so bright blue they were like two bleeding oceans. She was prettier than any sun that had ever set.

I suppose so. You don't look too bad for an old man.

When a man knows, he knows, no two ways about it. Man can lie to himself, which may be the worst lie possible. A lie so deep and grave that trust must be earned back because this betrayal, the betrayal of the heart, is akin to treason; how can a man live if he is not truthful with his heart? 

I have a feeling that you'll be beautiful forever, even in your nineties.

You think so? You think I'll live to be ninety?

I don't know, but I sure hope so, and if so, hopefully, I do too, as I'd rather not spend another day without you.

Now that I know she exists, my world caves in on itself. All of the plans I had were suddenly secondary. All but one of the unknowns remain hidden, but the thing as clear as day, as real as she was in front of me, was her. She's the only answer I need to the only question I'll ever need to ask.

Is that right? How can you be so sure? You don't know me. After all, it's been twenty years. 

Sure, but doubt does not exist anywhere, not in my head, heart, or soul. All the things aligned about twenty seconds ago. 

We were still standing on the blacktop, separated by about a foot of thin air. It was twelve inches of closeness, twelve inches separating me from fate, fighting like hell to close the distance and meet my maker in the form of woman.

I'm glad you found some alignment. I hear that's important these days.

I think I found more than that.

Walking with her to the door of the big swing dance, I felt like I could live inside that night forever, even if it meant never seeing the sun again. I then found something brighter than anything burning in the sky. My heart found his companion, a counterpart with which to enjoy the rest of time, to count seconds and minutes against seasons change never a same day as I fall ever deeper into the girl with ocean eyes. 

Cover Art: The Dance Hall in Arles - Vincent Van Gogh