The Anchor

The Anchor

A Story by Marvin K. Mooney

About an acquaintance I'd like to know better.

       We collided on May 13, 2009. She, the immovable object, I, the irresistible force, illuminating for one instant all that is profoundly right, and wrong with the universe.
       She lends depth to the world, and beauty; playful character, and cautious intelligence; steadfastness and quiet bravery in the eye of a storm. She exists beyond her years -- as though age is beneath her. She is a combination I was not prepared for, a hope unexpectedly fulfilled, and she remains a gravitational force, silently changing the course of my existence.
       Her car, like the way she dresses, the way she thinks, or the way she puts two spaces at the end of every sentence, is too old for her -- which is to say, it suits her perfectly. I always look for those cars in parking lots now, and the sight of one brings me joy like few other things can. It is a symbol to me; a relic; a memorial; an article of faith.
       I hope she will always look ahead, the way she does now -- when she reaches the age of fifty, I hope she dresses like she's a hundred and fifteen. I hope that the storms will always break against her as I have seen them do -- that she will never lose her determined grace, never know what it is to turn aside, or crack, in doubt. I hope because I cannot help her.
       Looking back falls to me. Sitting at my dark and cluttered desk I can retrace the threads of fate to a point, distant in time and space, where there was a possibility of "us." She was born in full summer -- on the opposite side of the sun. I can mark the trajectories that brought us into contact, an intersection of two arcs, and follow, like lines on a map, their inevitable separation. Out of the corner of my eye I see the oncoming tide, bright as ever, but I cannot embrace it as I always have. I sketch a portrait, to navigate by, determined not to lose sight of her as the distance grows.
       One day, when all responsibilities are ended and obligations fulfilled, when the world has turned grey and shallow and this spark of life finally subsides, I hope to wake up, and find her there.

© 2012 Marvin K. Mooney

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Added on November 23, 2012
Last Updated on November 25, 2012
Tags: collide, threads of fate, inevitable, separation, gravitational, cannot help, oncoming tide, distance, navigate