7"To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour."
-William Blake, Auguries of Innocence.
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"Spin me around, Daddy!" the little girl begged, climbing on top of the soldier's freshly polished boots; her small feet easily fitting within the space between his ankles and toes.
His answering laugh reverberated off the walls of the neighboring houses.
She was his light. She was his joy. She was his life.
The palm of his hand enveloped her tiny fist, and her long, white dress billowed about them as he obediently spun her around and around in a circle, letting the cares of the world disappear in the moment.
"I love you."
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He lay prone on the beach, his weapon held steady against his shoulder, ready to fire at the first sign of an attack. The sun rising over the water behind him cast rainbow images on the multi-hued sand below.
The sand.
So many different grains, all shades, all shapes, some hard, some fragile—all joined together in harmony to make one landscape—the beauty of which was unmarred by the surrounding war.
If only the world would take a lesson from the simplicity of nature.
He took a moment to think of the one for whom he fought. She stood out amongst the multitudes—a pearl amid the stones—her beauty unmarred by the surrounding war.
Someday her world would be tranquil again.
A light flashed. An explosion echoed. And he moved forward.
"I love you."
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"Put down those weeds! We have no time for such nonsense!" the woman scolded the small child as she ripped the bouquet of Black-eyed Susans from her grasp and threw them on the ground.
The girl did not respond; she merely bent to retrieve the fallen flowers.
At first, her nanny was irritated. How dare she ignore the command to be about their business? They were late enough as it was.
But the child's stoic exterior screamed grief. She was too far gone to shed even one tear, and the delicate manner in which she picked up the blooms took on new meaning.
And so, the woman helped the girl pick up the plants that she had discarded—straightening them as best she could before handing them over. It was the closest to an apology she had ever given.
The service had begun before they arrived, but the girl did not care.
Oblivious to the crowd, the child walked forward to the flag-draped coffin, and leaned over to whisper in her father's ear. "These are for you, Daddy. Please give them to God when you see Him and tell Him that I thought they might match nicely with His streets of gold." Then she turned and walked away.
"I love you."
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The young man watched as she bent near the shoreline, allowing the sand to pour out between her fingers. A circlet of wildflowers crowned her head as she stared wistfully out into the ocean. She was an angel.
Only a year prior, he would not have been permitted to stand along this beach, but at the cessation of the war, all borders had been dropped, the division ended, and the people were at liberty to blend together once more. He had been drawn to the water's edge—to see the expanse of freedom laid out before his eyes. However, the ocean had lost all of its pull.
There was only her.
He approached cautiously, afraid this vision would disappear; knowing he would never witness such perfection again. His heart stopped when the unwelcome sound of a snapping twig caused the young woman to become aware of his approach. He was certain she would vanish, as the best dreams often do.
Instead, she turned and smiled—a glimmer of hope bringing life to her once sad eyes.
And the match was struck that would soon swell into a burning flame, never to be extinguished.
"I love you."
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The groom looked down at the ring held in the palm of his hand, a perfect circle—a reminder that their love held no beginning and no end—and smiled. The ring was beautiful in its simplicity, but it was the promise of forever that caused his heart to soar when the wedding march began to play.
As the first chords rang out, his head rose slowly, savoring the feeling of bliss as his bride floated down the aisle toward him.
She had become his light. She had become his joy. She had become his life.
She appeared to be walking alone, but all knew her father was there—in her thoughts, in the way she moved. You could almost see him standing tall at her side, as his reason for living—his reason for dying—walked gracefully down the aisle, her head held high as he gave her away…
…An hour later, the young man's wife was in his arms. "Spin me around," she breathed into his ear and laughed as he obeyed—her long, white dress billowing about them as all cares ceased to exist.
It was just the two of them, together, for all eternity.
"I love you."
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A/N - This was just a little something I cooked up for the Review Game's July Writing Challenge Contest. The prompt was the little verse at the beginning of the story. If you liked it, please go vote for me in the poll sometime between July 8th and the 14th. Thanks!