Blue Eyed Soldier

She almost didn't respond. She thought his interest went no further than to obtain cheap cybersex. That first conversation lasted over four hours. A month later, the first expressions of love.

They used the analogy of a waterfall, and this became their symbol. The turmoil, the strength, the unyeilding forward push of expression and emotion, until both were tossed with the current, over the edge, powerless, not knowing how they would land, not caring. It wouldn't have helped to care. They were defenceless against the swirling wave of feelings that propelled them to each other.

He was much younger than her. Neither cared. They were drawn together by the honesty that comes with the experience of deep emotional loss and invisible scars, wounds on their hearts, each somehow healing the other.

The photo was of a proud young US Marine, tall, blonde and with striking blue eyes. His dress blues worn with perfection. The opitome of a hero with a burning desire to serve and protect. To the outside world, just another one of the brave few. But she could see the sadness in those eyes. Blue, like the ocean, and equally as deep. Blue, like sorrow. Hurt and loss only able to be seen by those who shared that look.

He talked of his mother and how cancer took her from him just days before his 13th birthday. He talked of how, eight years later, he still could not allow himself to be close to another person. He told her that he loved her, but that he was scared. She was scared too.

She'd loved before. Never completely, never unconditionally. Not until now. This blue eyed soldier, thousands of miles away - oceans away - released in her something she'd held dormant all her life. This young boy, in the body of a man, taught her the meaning of love.

They talked of a life together. They talked of the house they'd build, the dreams they had, and the love that would continue to grow. They talked of happiness. They laughed a lot. Every day, a new private joke, a new term of endearment, and endless "Goodnight, I love you's" typed onto the computer screen until one had the strength to disconnect the line.

The day of his transfer came. They knew there would be no communication until he was settled into his new job, at a new base, somewhere across the country. It will be ok, they said, we have our letters, we have our photos, and it won't be long until we can talk again.

She didn't know why he didn't contact her. She didn't know exactly where he'd gone. She sent emails every single day. She told him of her faith in him and her love and all that was going on in her life. She never gave up hope, because she knew their love was real. Somehow she knew that he simply couldn't contact her and it was up to her to find him. On the 87th day, she did.

He was amazed, they laughed, she cried. Boxes were lost in his transfer, his computer broken, and he did not know how to contact her. He was elated by her call. She was glad of her persistence.

But time and fear had worn him down. In those days apart he experienced that pain and loss he'd fought so hard to never encounter again. He wanted so much to be close to her, to be with her. They knew this was how it should be. But a dam wall had gone up where the waterfall once flowed. They stayed in touch a while, but it was not the same. His heart was no longer available and hers was broken.

It's been a long time since she heard his voice, but her love is just as strong. She dreams of the day they'll find each other again. Somehow, she knows they will. Her blue eyed soldier was with her for just a moment, but his love touched her heart for a lifetime.

Just something I wrote a while ago and have been thinking a lot about lately. Those of you who've known me for a while probably know who the people are, but I'm not going to go into detail on here. I want them to remain nameless.