Separation
She looked back at you with big, bright, full eyes, biting her bottom lip as you looked back her with an ignorant form of emptiness. Sitting next to you was a work of art, and at the time, something that felt like God had created for you. Somehow, you had mustered the strength to ask her out on date two weeks ago, where you spilled chocolate ice cream on the seat of your pants and had spent the rest of the time awkwardly hiding the wet spot while she giggled in that way cute girls always giggle. Somehow, you had convinced her father that you weren’t going to break his daughter’s heart like the leather jacket wearing punks in teenage romance movies tend to do. And somehow, you managed to work your way into her heart the way worms eat into the core of an apple. At this time in your life, you had your love look back at you with big, bright, full eyes, biting her bottom lip, analyzing your body language and anticipating your next move with excitement and nervousness. She leaned over onto your shoulder, and you took the opportunity to ask, “Are you cold?” while simultaneously putting your jacket around her shoulders; your arm carefully placed around her waist. Her long brown hair perfectly framing her face, you inhaled deeply, and pushed your own lips against hers, and she reciprocated with an equal amount of passion.
***
Repeat after me “I, your name.” You repeated his words.
“Do solemnly swear.”
“Do solemnly swear.”
“That I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies.”
“That I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies.”
You looked around, but she wasn’t there. You try to remember if you had invited her. Did you invite her? No, you know you invited her. She wasn’t there. No, you know how she feels about this decision; so you shouldn’t had expected to see her there next to the spot your mother had been a moment before. Do you remember how you felt when you uttered those last words, when you set your future in motion to be an exciting but unclear one?
“So help me God.”
“So help me God.”
And it was done.
Out in the lobby, you saw your mother, and dried mascara trails running down the side of her cheeks. You put your arms around her, and you heard the shrill and pointless whimpers that had emerged from inside her. Her arms seemed to be locked in place when you let go of her, and it was no easy task to tell her it was time for her to stop, that you had business to finish that day. You said you would give her a big hug when you got home later, but then was not the time for it. You wondered if you could have said that to Her; if you could have told Her that now was the time to let go, and you promised you’d be back, but at this time you had to leave. But you didn’t have too, because she had decided to not show. Instead she was at home, under her blankets, after crying herself asleep.
***
You remembered all of that, didn’t you? Now, the drone of the plane engines soon became background noise as to your ears. Only thirty minutes into a flight that led to a future that was more uncertain than you would ever be willing to admit. Only thirty minutes into a decision that you had been so set on, but now all you felt was regret. All you thought was about how you deserted her. But she wasn’t alone. She was surrounded by friends and family—she was still in her life of comfort, people who still loved her. You were the one who was alone, and you missed her. 
***
You sent her a text message reading “I’m home safe,” referencing the time you forgot to text her after driving home during the midst of a snowstorm. You had promptly fell asleep once you had gotten home, and for the next 8 hours, she had been worried sick. 
“How have things been?” was the second.
“Can we meet up sometime?”
“Do I have the right number?”
“Is everything alright?”
“Hello?” was the last message of the night.
***
The warmth of the sun shimmering on your skin gave a false sense of security for today. Upon entering, the smell of coffee and baked goods entered your nostrils, and yours ears suddenly became alert with quaint background music filling the atmosphere, and the occasional CLING and CLANG of a cash register opening up and slamming shut. You weren’t here for  the pastries however, and you began to look around, then took a seat across from a woman with long brown hair and big, brown eyes.
“Hi,” She began the formalities.
“Hello.”
“How’re you?”
“Good, and yourself?”
You didn’t hear her answer. You wanted to get on with what you were here for. What were you there for? What had you wanted?
A waitress had appeared, bringing you out of deep thought. You ordered a small coffee, without cream or sugar, and the waitress disappeared for a moment before coming back with your coffee and her tea. You jump-started the conversation.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to wait for me, it wasn’t right.”
“I shouldn’t have agreed to your request,” she replied emptily.
You stared at your wavy reflection in your coffee cup.  Clearly, she was only here to entertain your request to see each other again. You started to say something, but caught yourself before you muttered anything. You thought about telling her about how much you missed her while you were away. It had only been three months, and that was 3 months you were away from her. All you had wanted to do was hold her in your arms when you came back. You remembered receiving letters from her about her life, and the weekly nuances that she encountered. Then, the letters became suddenly became sparser, from almost twice a week to none. Other recruits that she had left you, but you couldn’t accept that. Now what? You still loved her, and it was obvious by her dry tone and defensive body language that she didn’t feel the same anymore.
She broke the silence.
“My heart cried when you left, but you know I’m tougher than that,” she said flatly.
“Maybe if things had been different—maybe if you had gone to college—we could have worked something out. But things are the way they are now,” she had lost the firmness in her voice at this point, you could hear her voice quiver with emotion. “I learned that I could not take the stress of you always being in danger. I learned that the military life is not one I want to live. I learned how to live without you in my life, and that is what I intend to do.”