The Magic in the Wind

By Kristine K. McCraw

           My reflection, a silhouette of contemplation, stared back at me from the water. I sat on the dock like The Thinker—crouched forward, furrowed brow, and deep into my thoughts. A breeze skimmed the surface of the water and washed over me. I watched my reflection ripple.

           Should I mail the letter? I asked myself again. Its power was peculiar—so light in weight, I could barely feel it in my pocket but heavy on my mind. The letter nagged me more times today than I could count, so I came here to sort out my options. There were only two, and one was staring me in the face—the muddy river. I could toss it in the water and be done with it, but I wouldn't.

           This dock was tucked away in a marsh, and very few knew its existence. Its refuge was mine when I needed to think alone. It had a magic way of bringing clarity to my woes. In fact, I always left the dock with resolve, but today, the magic seemed to be missing. Maybe because Anna had been here with me. She was the first woman I brought to my hide-out. Sunsets here with Anna were the best part of this old, withered dock. She marveled at the beauty each time, her long autumn hair blowing in the wind as she watched the sun dip behind a grove of trees across the river. I never saw her so relaxed and unfettered by her complicated life.

           I pulled the letter from my pocket, unfolded the ends, and poised to reread it. The wind sped up, and the paper rattled in the breeze as if to tell me to let it go. It was a year and three months of a beautiful friendship that deepened into love, and suddenly, it was over. She ended it with one text and blocked me from contacting her. The woman I loved disappeared from my life without giving me a chance to change her mind. I was confused and heartbroken, and my mind wouldn't release this affliction until I had my say. I will send it tomorrow, I thought.

           The idea of the letter started at Pete's Tavern. "You could contact her by mail," my friend suggested over beers the evening of the breakup.

           I chuckled. The mail? It was an old-fashioned way of correspondence, yet it was my only option; Showing up uninvited was not. Shortly after we started dating, it didn't go over so well when I did that. She was ashamed of her house's condition but couldn't afford to fix it. I wanted to be the one to change that for her, but her independence was too strong. She wouldn't accept money. In fact, she seemed offended by my gesture to help.

           "You're onto something," I told him. I paid my tab a minute later and left Roger alone at the bar. I returned to my Greek Revival. Its stately columns and wide gabled roof were different from Anna's house. But I didn't buy this house; it went way back in the family.

           I composed the letter after a quick shower and a cup of coffee. After three hours of writing, I had only one little paragraph. There was the chance that Anna would pull it from her mailbox and toss it in the trash without reading it, so why did I scrutinize every word? At least I'd have my say, but some things are better left unsaid. Send it or not? That's what brought me to the dock this evening. This whole thing was so…awkward. Regret weaved through the memories of us together and rippled my heart like the wind did the water. I'd read it one more time and force myself to decide.

Dear Anna,

Why? I can't understand this. For over a year, you made me a happy man. Nothing about you could have ever stopped me from loving you. Why couldn't we talk this through? What hurts the most is that you thought so little of me to doubt that I could love all of you. You told me you couldn't live up to the expectations that people like me have. Your measure against me was unreasonable because I will never measure up to your sweetness and beauty. We were good together. Please reconsider your decision. I love you, my sweet Anna.

Your Beau Bear,

Phillip

           My throat caught as I came to the end, but I wouldn't cry. I don't cry. I stuff feelings. The letter didn't give me the relief I had hoped for, and I was still inside my head searching for an answer. Send it or not? I had to do something. If I didn't send it, I'd destroy it anyway; No one could know she called me Beau Bear. Just drop it in the river, I told myself. But why couldn't I? The water rippled again as if it was calling for me to let it go, but if I did, it would float away, drown, and never reach her. Did it matter? Would the letter win her back? Probably not. Anna's mind was hard to change. She drew hard lines. Still, I couldn't let it slip from my hand and be gone forever. I wanted another chance, or did I?

           I felt the sun on my forehead and knew it was dropping behind the trees. That was our sunset. I lifted my head; sorrow made this a feat against gravity. Watching the everlasting sunsets with her beside me, quietly living in the moment, was part of our love. Were we meant to be forever like the sun's light?

           Seconds later, the wind blew with a force that snatched the letter as if tired of my indecisiveness. It fluttered, flapped, and turned sideways as it rode the wind along the river's surface. When the wind mellowed, it dropped suddenly, like how she left me. I watched it float on the calm surface; then the water swallowed it. My words, drowning in the dark waters, seemed insignificant against the river's power. Finally, it disappeared, as did the wind. I sat motionless in the night's shadow, satisfied that my decision was made for me.

           On the walk home, I decided it was time to move on with my life, but when I got home, Anna was waiting for me on the porch, as beautiful as she'd ever been. She was dressed in a white strappy sundress, her hair swept away from her porcelain skin in a bun. She leaned against a column and grinned as I walked closer.

           "I can't leave you, Beau Bear," she told me, her sweet voice coating the words with sugar.

           I could do nothing but hold onto her. My heart pounded; I had her back—she and me against the world again. When I caught my breath, I'd express the words I wrote in the letter, but I just wanted to feel Anna wrapped in my arms for now. Tonight, my escape to the dock didn't fail me—it never failed me. But I realized the magic wasn't in the refuge; the magic was in the wind.