Anne

It was the summer of 2001. She was a brown eyed girl, who having grown up in a life of prosperity, was quick and intelligent like the times. All that the country had to offer in its new era of growth was embodied in her soul.
She was a smallish girl of sixteen. With a glimmer in her eye that could only be brought about by curiosity. Raised good in the Catholic light, born out of the spirit of American Protestantism, but clinging to an old religion that her parents placed upon her. Still being the naïve young girl she was, she had no recognition of this ideal that was in her. She simply lived life for all that it was, and left more trivial matters of precise socialization to those who cared about such things.
Not to say she wasn’t smart. She was quick and knowledgeable to those things school brought upon her. Nor did she heed the most attention to school affairs or delve into the books too deep, she was simply a girl of the time; knowledgeable about the life and things that people told her, astute and attentive to those limited means in her immediate surrounding.
Her care was in life. It was in blossoming. She had already witnessed this phenomenon in her friends and was thirsty for this breakout of her own. That summer was hers and all that her dreams envisioned. And although she knew this was the most important time in a young girl’s, or young persons’ life, she could not be ready for what was to be bestowed upon her.
She was small, of a height of 5’4”, fully grown height wise, but like many young ladies, not fully grown into that woman’s mold. She was a good looking girl with brown hair and brown eyes with the sweetest of smiles. Her size and her attitude made her genuinely cute, and genuinely a likable person. Her character was flawless. Her heart was pure and clean to the soul. The mischief she got herself into, although daring and damning to her young mind, was largely benign in its nature. Even her thoughts were clean. She simply swept away all of the evils the world set in front of her. She was aware of such malice and evil, but had the goodness of character to avoid them and stay clean.
It was not the purity of her actions that set her apart from the rest. It was the purity of her intentions, her attitudes, and her thoughts. Although the occasional swear fell from her lips it was always with the simplest of intentions, and the pleasantness of inaneness. Of such an idea I know I can not convey to you. The pureness of her actions was not out of naivety, it was again out of the goodness of her soul, which the depths of evil had not the power to perpetrate. Only by example may I explain such a thought.
I had just sat in on dinner after an enjoyable afternoon in heaven. It was one of those carefree early summer days in Texas, when not only the young at heart know life is perfect, but all in society and in nature as well. These were the days when the afternoon is so deliciously perfect that one assumes it must be the same throughout our world. The fact that we had spent that day together made it even more incredible.
Anne and her mom were cleaning up after supper, her mom being the kind of nice and jovial, but strict and caring mother that is necessary to produce such a daughter. Anne was cleaning off the leftovers from the table. We had grilled up some decent hamburgers along with a couple of what would have been tasty steak kebobs. No one had touched them though as we had accidentally let them burn to a crisp.
Laughing and saying in her carefree and usual way, Anne remarked to her mom, this is definitely “SOS”, as she tossed the burnt steak, tomatoes, and peppers away.
Her Mom giggled and simply said “Yes dear, it certainly is.”
“What?” I said perplexedly, not understanding the joke at all

Anne, without hesitating, understanding my ineptitude, said “Shit on a Stick.”
This was the first time I had heard such a word out of her mouth, and with her mom not but three feet away. As shocked as I was, I kept the astonishment to myself, for although Anne could read me like a book, her mom did not realize this. Anne smiled coyly and amusedly, glimmering with an endless glow, she realized my bewilderment. She had outdone me once again.
I was so astonished by the events I had not the perception to scold her with my eyes or my mouth. Not a word of disrepute would fall from my own lips in front of her that was not responded to by a “HEY” and the stern look of a loving reprimand. But she too could let an occasional word loose and I had not the power to offer any rejection. This is not to say she was perfect. There were times when I too pierced her with my eyes for miscalculations on her part, but it was never for the misuse of our darker vocabulary.
This act in itself represented her perfection and her grace. Even with her vulgarities it was a simple calculated exchange, and it showed even more so the purity of heart. She was able to swear without even upsetting the cleanest and most prudent of mothers. Later on she would kiss me, and time once again, as always, stood still, and that mouth was as pure as it was when the evening started.

That summer I would be her gateway into life. And although I was smart and strong with my age, I was missing my key to the world. That key was in her purity. It was in her beauty, in her cuteness, and in her love. For although I was head over heels for her, I know too, she offered me everything her soul had to give, she too was endlessly in love. That summer I would give her the world, and I would see the world come to me. She was the angel who gave me endless strength and confidence.

There is an old adage:

Any man can become a monk and go to heaven, but the greatest of men will walk side by side with the greatest of sins, and be devout, and be true, and fulfill all of God’s wishes.

I was the evil and the sins, she was the perfection. Her love, placed in my heart, gave me the strength to conquer all that I wished, and she would remain that perfection even though she was being held by the greatest of tempters, and was in the midst of the most troubled of her times.


She was the cutest; there was no doubt in my mind about that. She aspired to be cute. The shows she watched, the actresses she mimicked, was all in an effort to attain a certain level of cuteness that she wanted. “Rory” from the Gilmore Girls was her largest idol in this sense. When she mentioned the show on many occasions I simply teased her about it. She was serious about watching it, and would not let me interrupt when she was doing so. It was not until I watched it that I understood such a phenomenon, and when I did I was fully hooked. I fell in love with Rory, in a similarity that I fell in love with Anne, just to a lesser extent. The beauty, cuteness, and purity of “Rory” were a mirror image of Anne. Anne had something more though. She was not an actress, she did not put on such act; it was fully within her. Not to say the girl on the show was not the essence of these things, she very likely is at least to some extent. But I knew Anne was all these things. Furthermore, Anne could not act any other way. There was no way to break the spell that had been cast around her. The God-given person that she was would not allow her to alter her character. She simply embraced that object that she was. That beauty, that cuteness, and that purity was in her soul.
There are other girls, some that I on occasion have fancied a gleaning eye towards, that put on such a guise of cuteness and beauty. And although perhaps such a display catches many guys’ eyes and has the desired effect the ladies want, it is not based in the essence of who they are. A charade, although attractive, is not something one can truly fall in love with. If someone has to act hard to be something they are not, and even upon successful imitation, that person has lost all credibility. Perhaps this display is sufficient if one is portraying the ideals of a negative or shallow character, but it is incompatible when one tries to display the characteristic of cuteness, innocence, and good-heartedness. It takes only those with good souls to the core and the true spirit of innocence to arrive at such a display. Only with the correct moral character may one obtain such high standards. This I saw in Anne from day one. This is what caught my eye, this trueness to character. She was cute, innocent, bright, pure to the heart, and therefore, beautiful.
She was physically beautiful also. There is no doubt about that. She perhaps lacked in the qualities that some within society view as beautiful, the view of the tall, slender, big breasted, and blonde that has formed as a ubiquitous and shallow picture of beauty. Anne’s body was simple enough; skinny but firm with small breasts and slender arms and legs. Anne’s backside, according to her own analysis, was small. She admired the bottom that her sister had, as Anne claimed “big and bubbly,” and mockingly she complained about her own lacking at times, although I do not think she was terribly disturbed of it. The part she seemed to focus on most, though, and I suppose I too at times, was her chest. It was small and would most likely remain so even if at the time it was not fully grown out. This, though, probably added to her cuteness. She was definitely more in the framework of petite. She complained from time to time about such an issue, and I was unable to offer much consoling except for saying things like “you’re beautiful the way you are,” and “that’s why I love you.” She mostly rejected such soft reassurings of her.
She even at times and with conviction expressed want for breast implants. One day she even insisted that I promise to help her get them when we were older. I would have no part of such nonsense. I demanded that that was ridiculous, and responded “over my dead body.” I rejected her grounds for desire on two fronts. One, I thought she was damn beautiful the way she was, and I most certainly wanted to see not a shred of change in her. She was everything I possibly desired in a girl, she was everything that I thought was good from an aesthetic viewpoint. There was therefore no need to alter such a beautiful configuration. I saw absolutely no need for enhancing what I already perceived as perfect. I did my best to explain such thoughts to her, but I do not believe such thoughts ever truly penetrated her understanding. As many times as I relayed to her that I saw her as purely beautiful, she never took the point that these were not lies or condolences, but were the most accurate of perceptions I could give her.
My next point to her was simply that her breasts were like the rest of her, true to her inner spirit. She needed not be the woman that media and society insinuates that all women should be. Anne was of her own character, her own ideals, and her own beauty, to alter that would be denying that that was in essence her. Not once in my life have I looked at a girl I loved, and said I wish they had this or did not have that. We accept people on the front for who they really are. We accept people because of their character. I loved Anne because she smiled at me just right, like no one had ever done before. It was a smile of kindness, beauty, passion, and love. The world will be damned if I could have possibly loved that girl more because her breasts were a little larger. The world, at least that world around a young lady that she should embrace, is one that will not care about how big of breasts that she inhibits. If your character is not grand enough to impress people beyond the size of your breast then those two symbols of modern beauty are truly more powerful than I realize. This too, Anne failed to agree with me upon. Perhaps her argument was creeping towards validity. Those women that are beautiful and have large bosoms do probably enjoy advantages over others in our world. Anne was wrong though, she could obtain all she wanted with the body and mind she had, and she no matter what would have me standing by her side.
Anne’s breasts aside, even though they were focal subjects many a time, her face was the key to her beauty. I certainly believed her petite slender body was a perfect aid to such a face, but it definitely is not the essence of Anne. This is true of all girls. The beauty as I said before is in the eyes and in the smile. Anne’s face was perfect. Every part was evenly and artistically distributed. The few freckles that dotted the face added to the simplicity of her look. They were not there in overburdening numbers, but were just a few light specks that gave her a sense of life and vitality. Her deep, dark brown eyes set well against her tanned skin. Her nose was smaller and true to proportion and shape, and her eyebrows were dark, but not quite black. Anne’s hair was brown and a little wavy. It was long and flowing and beautiful. Overall there was a softness to her face. It is a softness that will tremble the hands of any man when his fingers touch it.
When Anne smiled it brought the complexion and components all together. Slight dimples would set off her well toned cheeks that were highlighted by the few freckles that clung to them. Her eyes at the same time would mimic that smile. They would beam. Every passing thought that was encompassed in that smile would likewise come out, and you could sense the pureness of every thought in her body and the love that she passed onto you.

I was a young man of deep thoughts and had always been. I was simple and easy going, and my only care in the world was true love. In most regards I was a romantic. Something that I would not realize for quite some time, or something that no one else would accuse me of, including Anne. I had had my share of girlfriends, and never had much of a problem attracting those of the opposite sex, Anne was certainly no exception. Although I could attract girls easy, and even moved in close to a few, I was always far too shy to do right or extend things into lasting and meaningful relationships. My shyness was still problematic when Anne and I became a pair, but obviously this was eventually overcome. There were other girls who became very close, girls who I loved deeply, and who deeply loved me. But as deeply connected as I became to any one of these previous attachments, none of these could prepare me for the love I was about to find. My mind and rational thought may certainly not have been ready, but my heart was all too ready.
The cooler air of the evening was sinking into our lungs. We had been there for well over an hour now, and after some passionate kissing and embracing we were back into a careless and deep conversation. The words were the normal exchange until Anne started analyzing the facets of our time together.
“Lyndon,” she asked, “You have always been the one to initialize everything. “
“That’s not true. I have not a clue what to do most of the time. I know we have troubles at times. I know I don’t always say the right things, but it is you who usually steers us in the right direction.”
“You were the one who came on to me, and asked me out first.”
“Yea, but it was more mutual. There was no doubt you were going to say yes.”
“You also always take the lead in deciding what we should do.”
“That’s because you never offer any better suggestions, and always push for me to decide.”
At that point I grabbed her tight. She again was acting helpless and was cute as can be. She didn’t really care about any of this. She knew that she was just as important in building this relationship as I was. She also knew I was shy, and that I had made many mistakes throughout our being together, but she did not ever bring any of those things up. If it was not for her in her steadfast and directing ways my shyness would probably have caused the relationship to wither into nothing as had been true with others in the past. She not only had the real control as far as initializing what we were doing and where we were going in the large sense, but she most certainly also set limits and kept a watchful eye over me. She was always a positivist though, and saw things in the best of light. Despite my mistakes and faults, and hers, I don’t think either of us would have asked for anything different.
“Liar,” Anne whispered to me, as we were much closer now. “I’m always offering ideas. Just tonight I suggested we go on a double date with Amy.”
“Well if you had carried out that idea…it would have been really stupid. You don’t even like her, and you know for the love of God I can’t stand her.”
“So …it was still a suggestion.”
“A bad one!” I scolded her. At the same time I twisted her just enough so that I could land a quick, light slap on her backside. Anne gave me a sharp glance instinctively saying ‘you have no right to do that.’ Though, she had not the eyes or the heart to truly cast any serious tone of disapproval onto my actions. I could easily since a smirk under those glaring eyes. She did not really mind, but she pulled herself back around to stare directly at me anyways.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing mister? You don’t have the right to touch my behind unless I, let, you…” she said as she glared directly in my eyes. She still wore that smile though. She too could not keep this act up, and gave a little giggle with her smirk until once again she could fully control herself. She knew under my tight grip she had no control of the situation anyway.
“It was still a better idea than the movie you made us watch,” she eventually responded to my comment.
“Again you offered no better suggestions. Plus, you said it looked okay.”
Anne smiled coyly. She was cute as ever, and she knew how she was, she knew exactly what to say and how to act to absolutely drive me crazy. But it was genuinely in her blood. She needed not to act; she did not need to put on a guise of being cute for me. It was the glimmer in her eyes, and the smile on her face. This was the secret to her beautifulness. Her eyes were pure and innocent with a constant gleam.
“You see you’re the one who has to decide on everything, she refuted once again. You always take the lead on everything, and I never can lend a hand.”
I paused for a second as I knew that this was truly bothering her, and wanted to comfort her with the right words. The answer came shortly. “Well…,” I knew exactly how she was wrong, but the idea stunned me a little. “You were the one who first kissed me. That I know for sure. That was an important moment and it was all you.”
Anne was lost into a silence at that point. She knew I was right. She too also knew how important that first kiss was. Her mind had run back into that time, and was feeling the emotions of that moment again. I was still holding tight as she was lost in that daze. I released her a bit, and slid my hand around to grasp her even more securely as I leaned over to kiss her. She may have been set back into dreaming, but Anne was well aware of what was happening. She slowly moved her hands up my arms to my shoulders. She was right there to meet my kiss, and so I slowly pulled her in tighter and tighter until our bodies were melded as one. Her hands gently caressed my neck and chest as chills were sent down my spine. My arms held her tight as I could feel the emotions of the evening and the conversation flow out of her. The kiss became strong and passionate, and our breathing became heavy. She was weak and vulnerable at this time like many others, and needed me to give her all the strength she thought she lacked. I applied a great deal of pressure onto her small frame, and allowed the kissing to become strong and passionate. Anne lacked confidence and acknowledgement of her own abilities, beauty, and passion. She could not see that the strength I gave her through that grasp was returned two fold to me through her loving and caressing touch. She thought I was everything in the world, but any ability I had was there because our hearts were beating side by side. Only through the passions of true love was I able to be the one I was capable of being.
Anne embraced me hard also, and the moment once again in that warm summer air felt perfect. The kiss was as magical as any other save the first, but it was pretty close. The conversation had turned our hearts inward and pushed our love out. The kiss was strong and passionate, and lasted for a long time. When we finally agreed to pull away there was a tired and endless feeling. The feeling that you had just given it all you had inside and had loved with every strength and passion that you were capable. I quickly learned that this feeling was the true indicator of the night. Our bodies would be much weaker on that walk back to the car, but our hearts were that much more entwined. The passion was not more than a kiss that night, but it certainly took everything from of us.


I can not say with all certainty what came to play that night. The life we found in each other was plenty enough for both of us, but yet I always ached for more. My feeble attempts to push our romance to the depths of all it could be had always been easily rejected by her. At times things became tense for this reason. There were also questions asked by me that pushed her beyond any means of comfort.
Down by the lake in the cool air of the spring things went easily as ever. Every move I made was calculated and correct and always anticipated by Anne. That girl made things so easy. I thought always the night would end in everything I wanted or at least everything I thought I wanted. Loving her was easier than anything I could ever do again. She too must have been fully captivated by the moments. The strength she always had I know not where it came from. She resisted strongly any temptations that went beyond her appropriate level of conduct.
I was a good boy most the time, and when I chose to push things further I always did so with the course of giving her ample opportunity to reject any improper request. Reject she did, at least most the time. Things were deeply passionate and the relationship did progress. That night she once again played me for everything she wished to attain without bending an inch beyond that which she did not want.
She instinctively got out as the car was parked down by the lake. Anne took her young lover by the hand and led him down by the water. We walked for quite a ways until coming to a lone, leafless tree on a flat embankment on the shore. It was in the open, and with a large moon shining so bright, everything around us was very visible. We could easily see all the way across the lake to the dam on the far side. The grass was short and worn. The sanctity of the lake pushed the attention fully on one another. The only meaningful sound came from her lips. And she spoke. She replayed the day and the fight she had with her father. She rambled onward. On a number of occasions Anne complained about her father, they just did not seem to get along. It was not an awful relationship, they both still loved and cared for each other deeply, and (even though Anne acted like she did not at times of entanglement) it was simply tense at times. Anne was in the wrong but held her ground anyway.
“Ah, you should not say that about your father,” I scolded her.
Anne did not care for my advice. “He is a butthead,” she said sarcastically. “And so are you.”
“No he’s not.”
“You’re not allowed to judge how I think about my father.”
“Yes I am, that’s what I do,” I said while smiling foolishly at her. Then, I more seriously added, “It’s not his fault you came in after curfew. Those are just simply the rules he laid down that you did not follow, and now you are mad at him for grounding you accordingly.”
“He could have a little leeway.”
“Perhaps, but it’s not the end of the world. Your parents still let us hang out tonight after the banquet.”
“Yea, well that doesn’t help the next two weeks.”
I suppose at that we came to a mutual agreement. The evening had gone well. Anne had worn a short, blue dress that evening to the banquet that along with her hair being done perfectly made her look simply amazing. She looked even more gorgeous in the glaring moonlight standing next to the lake. She was a gem. She complained at times about her looks, but she was truly a knockout. In the next few years she too would realize the beauty she encompassed and would hold her head high. That evening in that short cut dress, I knew she was something special. As conversation had ceased and as we blankly stared at the ebbing lake edge, there was nothing more to do but to lean over and kiss her. She again, as always was ready for it. We kissed and held each other tight. In her arms I was bound.
Beneath that tree we accomplished all we wished to accomplish and she led me back down that lake shore. We made it back to the small empty parking lot where we had parked not but a few moments before. I started to walk back around to the side of the car to let her in when instinctively we started to kiss again. Instantly though, although the time and setting for a kiss was right, she started chattering from the coolness of the evening. Determined not to abandon that kiss right there I led her into the back seat of my car to carry on.
This was not the first time we carried on in such an environment, and Anne naturally and instinctively let me lead her there. Things truly became passionate once again. We took our love to the farthest places that we had taken it until in the course of passion and exploring the beautiful curves of her body I asked her to push further. I asked her to take her dress off. Although not a completely out of line request given the meaning of what was happening, Anne refused. It was a simple no. And, I after a few more moments of continuation, gently asked again. I meant no harm or invasion by the request. I felt it was simply a furthering of what we had done. There was nothing in the removing of her dress that would not have been beyond the limits of what she had previously done, but yet she felt it violated her personal agreement. I did not argue. I simply wanted to see the beauty of that essence that I felt on numerous occasions, but I certainly understood; it would have been crossing one more line.
The passion of the evening continued for a little longer, but the end did come shortly after. I drove her home feeling good about the banquet and the following events. It was once again a night in bliss, all that I could wish for. I walked her to her door in a slow and careless manner and gave her a few kisses.
Anne paused for a moment as she held on tight to both of my hands, “Lyndon, are you mad at me?”
“No,” I refuted, “Why would I be mad?” In my mind somewhere I am sure I knew why she had asked that question, but I played it innocently for all reasons, including to some degree, true innocence.
“I thought, maybe…” Anne started but tapered off, “Never mind. Lyndon, I love you.”
“I love you, too.” I kissed her once again and sent her inside; it would have not been long until she started shivering again anyways. I loved that girl with all my heart. If she had not said those three magical words right then who knows where the discussion could have turned that night, but she knew what to say to end things right. There were times when she was perfect.
That was not the end of those kinds of situations. Similar questions would come up again and at times we would discuss it. I would be foolish and push even harder, never in violation of her respect, but more than what was necessary, usually driving things beyond a level of comfort. There was nothing I wanted more in those days than to have sex with that girl. I loved her more than anything and sex was all that I envisioned as being the end all to love. She had my heart, my soul, everything, and I hoped to give her even more. To finalize even more what we had. There was one glaring problem in addition to her defiance. I was afraid that taking her innocence from her would change who she was. It was the beauty of innocence that made her much of the angel she embodied. If she were to give into the greatest of temptations would she no longer be that perfection that lured me to her every move? As much as I wanted everything, all of her heart, her soul, and her body, I was scared of taking from her the greatest thing I saw in her. Anne’s fastidiousness to the preservation of her innocence was one of things that drove me absolutely insane. That was the characteristic that kept me bound to her side, always. I believe this is the character that is central to her being. It was why she was cute. It was why her beauty was real. The innocence itself was vastly important, but her own preservation and view of such innocence was what made her so special. Her resilience for purity even in the face of evils made her the angel that she was. For me to break that seal of representation would require the most delicate of care and observance to righteousness. The truth being it would probably only have been right, only been fitting, upon an assignment of eternity between our souls. Only after marriage in the most pure and decent of fashions would such breaking of an innocent seal be possibly justified. The hormones of my youthful years were not ready for such a wait. My mind understood this rationale though, and at times my desires and my reason were in great conflict. I did love that girl with all my heart. I also had to respect her every last wish, and I had to make sure I preserved her character. Given the opportunity or the chance I had not the strength to turn her away.

The night was the same as any other. We had seen a bad movie once again, and had taken a long walk along the shore where things became as passionate as they had always been. After returning home she walked me out as usual, and as we stood next to the car I started wondering how I was going to do this. I, myself, was not sure I was ready. Although I had decided my future for a long time, and had done my best to start the conversation at others, I knew I had to do it. So I started off gently, I thought. She knew I was going off to college, but we had done little to discuss the actuality of it happening. This made for an interesting dilemma. The conversation was long overdue and she could sense this. I had not let her go back inside yet as we sat on the back of my car; I did not budge at all. There had been a long silence, somewhat awkward, but nothing was awkward between us anymore. She knew there was a good reason for the silence. Such a silence with this kind of feeling only came at other moments when one of us was about to say something important, something revolutionary in the relationship. There was nothing left to do, only to summon the courage of which I know I will never have again, to say words that I know I shall never say to her again. All the chips were laid on the table, but she too knew that there was nothing to be eager to hear, she knew eventually I would say something that would have a deep impact on our lives.
“Anne, you know I am going off to college,” I broke in. “It is quite far away.”
“I know,” she returned.
“The distance is going to be long. I won’t be around too often. Distance will make this hard.”
“MMmm,” she murmured back to me. She was already becoming scared, her face was becoming a little pale. This was a conversation she did not want to have.
“I don’t know what to do? We are going to be far away from each other.”
At this point she started crying. I had not said anything yet. I had not broken up with her; I was only trying to discuss it. She was afraid of what might come, something she too, knew must come. As she started crying I pulled her in, but continued to try to discuss the situation and how we should resolve. I was not set in what I wanted to do, some part of my mind told me what was necessary, but the rest of my mind and heart had not come to the same conclusion. So I was leading on lost, I wanted Anne to help me out, say something meaningful, make this easier.
“Anne we have so much more to do. I am much older than you; you feel the pressures…”
“Age is not a problem. You make it a problem. Lyndon I love you with all my heart. You know that, and age has never gotten in the way of us loving each other.”
“You know I love you, too. It is not about that. I am going away, and you have two years of school left. I know not what to do.”
Another long silence fell between us. She wanted to say so much, but she just continued to cry. The silence built up her angst and frustration, and she took off trying to walk around to the back of her house. She sprung away quite quick, and made it half way around, she was close to the backyard on the driveway side before I could catch her. She tried hard to pull away, but I reeled her in tight. The night was dark and silent. She began fully crying once again, I too was in shambles. I had never seen this kind of hurt in her before, and it brought me to my knees.
“Lyndon, let go,” she shrieked.
“We have not done anything yet. We must discuss this.”
“You don’t even care. You’re going off, and you don’t care what happens to me”
“Anne that’s not true! You know I love you, but this is important we can’t just go on, and pretend like none of this is going to happen.”
“You don’t care!” she once again shouted.
“Anne, do you think I don’t cry with you. That this doesn’t hurt me just as bad.” She murmured more refutations as she continued to sob hard. I too could feel tears coming; I had lost all control of the situation and had not a clue of where it was going. “Lets go inside, we probably have already awoken your neighbors.” I led her inside where everybody was asleep. The confrontation took a more sullen tone. I led her to the couch where I made her sit down against her own wishes, there I sat with her and held her as she cried. I held her close and at times kissed her neck. I reassured her with my touch that everything would be okay. Little head way was made in the actual conversation. A few spurts came out, with long pauses in between where we said basically the same thing we had already imparted once. She continued to cry as I continued to hold her deep into the night. The evening eventually wore on both of us, and I realized it was time to do something.
I compromised.
“Anne, lets just forget it all. Don’t worry about what I said, everything will be fine. We will make this work.” I could not stand to see the hurt so great in her, and so I simply set things back to the way they previously were with nothing being accomplished or officially said. The hurt in her had crushed me as well. She walked me to the door where I gave her a strong hug and a short kiss.
The next day I would call her, and things were as normal as always. The night before was a passing that had no physical bearing on the morrow or those after. The problems still hung in the air, but they were officially shelved with no timetable set for their reinstatement.
Three weeks would pass, and my going off would become a more pressing matter. The relationship was as strong as ever during that time. Although both of us were fully aware of what was lurking we loved as if there was no sun setting. The ending came quick and short. Late at night in the warm summer air after a long day together I drove us down to the lakes edge.
The words I could not say before I said now, quickly, and without hesitation. I claimed that this could not work out given the distance and the age. I told her that she still had much to do in growing, and that I would hold her back. I also conveyed that I loved her with all my heart, and said that I thought what we had was truly good. She said the same, and said she loved me. She took it much better this time. I was strong in what I had to do, and she was strong in receiving it, making my task much easier if not altogether possible. There was a ceremonial mock laugh by both at us at a simple joke by me. We hugged once, and I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. The quick drive home was silent. As I went to drop her off, I got out as usual and walked her to the door. She said it wasn’t necessary, but I insisted. I told her I would miss her, wished her luck, gave her one last quick kiss and let her go.

Instinct is everything I rely upon. There was no good justification for leaving Anne. She was young, but I had overlooked that long ago. There were pressures from the outside because of the age, and it had even crept in at times between us. The few times that I hurt her with a poor choice of words was when I too made fun of her age. She always saw this difference in age as a problem, but it was always on the peripheral. The love came from our hearts, and that had long cast away any separation due to that problem. She had not been as well traveled and was far below what I had understood of the world at that time, even though I too was very naïve in most matters. I teased her with this at times, and I could tell at times it hurt her, but my lack of discipline and inability to control my own tongue usually had me ride it a little too far. But this problem had been long dispensed. Now I of course used the difference in age and my physical going off to college to explain my choice to end the relationship to her, and most certainly to others. That was much simpler than trying to explain why it was I needed to be fully clean in my departure for Lee College. I not only needed my own presence at the university, but I needed the full and open range of my heart also. Not telling friends and family about this situation made every bit of sense. Not telling Anne was a shortsighted mistake on my part. We had said almost everything to each other, talked about past loves, opened up just about all of our hearts, but not once did I fully disclose this secret to her. And now I chose not to again. Instead I gave her an ephemeral excuse, and made my way down the road. My failure to tell her the whole truth at this moment is what I regret the most.

Taking into consideration all that had happened I knew not where the next day lay. Life had traveled a long weary road that summer with only one true bright light. My failures were heartbreaking; although the world had come within my grasp the irrational sense of my youth had turned the world away. All that I sought in the secular part of my life, all that I thought was important for my involvement in the well-being of the world, had been undone. I was tossed back into society with nothing but my youth and the opportunities afforded me. There was still much in store for me, but my aims and goals were truly premature. Only with age is one to come to a full understanding of ones self, and become whole on an intellectual level. I now know all of my strength and my weaknesses, and know that a chance will be gained again. As is my spirit I am a patient man, and time is my ally. Although academics and learning was not my main focus for college, one with anything of a mind is not able to attend such an atmosphere as a university and not be touched by its outreaching arms. My niche, perhaps already found, is years from discovery, and in the mean time I would continue to cleanse and ready my soul, while the college readied my mind.


My life had been one long obsession. The secrets bore deep down in my hearts revealed to no one, was now at the tips of my finger. I heeded little attention to classes. I gave them as much effort as I had before, and although grossly inefficient in my application, my mind allowed me to get by on such ineptitude only because of the low standards for the institution. I would never be so inept as to allow my self to fail, but also refused to do enough work and study to allow myself to truly succeed.
I was stuck in the midst of what many regard second class rural folk. They were as good Americans as the rest, but many simply lacked the intellectual capabilities of the more middle and suburban classes in our country. They are looked down on in terms of academic qualities for a reason, but they truly form the heart of America. The school helps to enlighten and socialize these people and helps continue the cycle of producing good high quality citizens, the kind upon which the backbone of this nation was formed. I, like many others at the school, did not belong to this group in formality, but most of these others, and I try my best to include myself, may not truly fit the lifestyle of the true characters of this local rural college, but many do have the hearts of such individuals. The attitudes and characteristics of the town, school, and local citizenry help recreate these individuals into new people that America can be very proud to include into the ranks of its newly educated. Whether they are completely educated in all that a traditional university representative would be striving for is unclear, but they most certainly are educated in all that this good world would like for anyone to understand. Their faith, their resilience for what is good, and their passion in our nation is a resounding connection shared by these individuals.
Of such things I absorbed as I went on my own spiritual quest. Perhaps I too was connected in this circle of circumstances, but I also had such strong character of aspiration that I did not let my self become absorbed in the society that surrounded me. My focus was understood; there was no backing down. My body, soul, and mind were free, and so my search continued. I found old friends, ones that I left when I was but very young and hardly cognizant of many things. Mythical figures that were not but merely dream, much as Lindsay had become. There were not memories of these people any more, only distant dreams that I had stopped envisioning long ago. With each face I met that had once been close, my childhood was reborn, and as satisfying as this was, this was not why I came. Only that dream that haunted my memory still drove me on. She was the target; every goal was centered on her.


Later on when explaining this story to a friend I was criticized greatly. I used the same rationale I used to break up with Anne to break a short lived romance that I should have never had started from the beginning. I now saw Anne as the perfection I had once saw in Lindsay, and determined all other things and relationships as unimportant. Much older and wiser in my life, although it was not too far in the future, I still clung to the same ideals of that youthful year. The young lady had tried to give me all her heart and I did my best to receive it for a while. Now without a doubt this was not the same situation as before, for my heart did not lay with the one I held tight, but with the love I had found earlier. I knew this, but I yearned for something close and tangible at the time so I let the necessities of life override my rational reasoning. When I, much too late, tried to explain exactly who I was, she responded with a harsh criticism, and berated me for such behavior and actions. She claimed I deserved my lot in life. She was sour at the time, and has eased up with time, but I realized that this was probably a more common outlook on love. She saw love as something to satisfy, something that did not have to be perfect, but just had to be of a caring and loving relationship between two individuals. To her, my rationale for leaving and choosing nothing over her, was befuddling to her thought process. We were good friends, cared for each other for a long time, and were in the beginning of something good and intriguing, and I ended that before anything could get started for reasons that she could not fully understand.
I have regretted many decisions I have made, but it was only those that were not made with the absolute goal of pure love that I have regretted most. The one that has hurt me the most, the one that my heart has ached many years from, is the decision that was the only one I could have made. I have always understood since I realized how devastating leaving Anne was to me, that I had always made the best decision and would have to make it over again. It was the correct and only choice at the time. It was not a mistake, only a miscalculation, one that I regret devastatingly to the bottom of my soul, but a choice that I have to recognize as the right one. I believe in love over life. For it is life. And it must be real. It must be all, and it must satisfy in every means. If there is a shadow of doubt, then there is something wrong. My search for that mirage, although not necessarily a fantasy, but perhaps an empty dream, my passion for the lesser known, had to be fulfilled. I had sensed all my life that the greatest of love lie in finding Lindsay, and given my history I had no choice. I had no choice to find out if I was right. This was not a passion that was controlling me, but a spirit, a spirit so great that when I found her, I also found God, for what else could bring on such a miracle. This search was not something I could simply cast aside because I had found what I deemed to be a true love, for to me there was only one goal in my life, one answer that beyond anything else had to be answered.
Now I know one can look at this and say you failed. By dismissing Anne the first time and now choosing her as everything, you have already made a mockery of the system under which you have chosen to live. To this I have little response, but I also need none. In my search I have reached clairvoyance in my heart, and Anne has become everything. I have no questions when I look in her eyes. My dreams have only one focus. My heart yearns for no other. I have no other aspirations. My heart, my soul, and my head have all reached the same conclusion, and no doubt remains. I once again will follow all that I know is right until the end. Wrong turns can be made, but inability to follow your aspirations is the only true failure.