SAME SIZED HANDS

Even now she could put her hands up and out in front of her as if he was sitting across from her and palm to palm, what was so amazing was that their hands were exactly the same size.

Even now though he was on the other side of the veil, the touch points of nerves from finger tips, base of the place where the fingers joined the palms, all along the edges of the pads to the edge of each wrist if she reached out to connect with him, he was always there.

Even now when it would seem like the memories would have long ago faded a smell or a hint of something out of the corner of her eye or the way someone gave a thumbs up could trigger that feeling of yearning and the impressions of his presence.

A big rectangle of  bright white mid-afternoon desert light spread several yards into the hallway and morphed into a full flash square as the door opened and two figures moved from the invisibility of the light into the shadows of the long corridor.  Helmet bags, flight jackets, and jump boots lined out the silhouettes but there was something more special about the figure on the right.  She made a quick ballet jete right turn and skipped back to the break room very aware that they were both taking her in and very aware they would meet in person in due time.

The others just wasting time waiting for the O Club dining room to open . . . only two days left of the two week course and no home work . . . and the beautiful spring desert afternoon no longer enticing and way past being done with the pool and watching jets and transports and helos take off and land.   But the most noticeable thing about the guys after seeing dozens of guys in flight suits was that they were naval aviators, not air force.  

In one of those lovely serendipitous occurrences, two friends from her earliest days on active duty showed up in the new course.  So that was a lovely connection.  Old stories told to the new people and new stories shared with the old friends.  Surprise and familiarity encroached and enfolded at the same and alternate times.

So the tension was almost delectable waiting for the one on the right to come down and of course he did and of course he  addressed the pop machine and a can of cool refreshing Orange Crush came down with a thunk.

What were the patches?  What was he flying?  What were they doing there?  

He turned a chair around and sat on it as if he had mounted a horse even though he had taken off his chaps, his flight jacket, and of course had not brought his helmet bag with him.

Besides the difference in the collars of the flight jackets, the naval aviators wore mock turtleneck knit shirts under their flight suits. . . . so that had been another indicator.  The conversation was lively and she reached out to rub his neck knowing what it was like to have been in the helmet and in the confined space of the cockpit, but really just wanting to touch him.  And the new friends and the old friends exchanged knowing smiles of the there-she-goes-again variety.

She had heard about soul mates before but the reality was at once more familiar and the strangest it could possibly be.  They knew the sounds of their voices and the sighs of satisfaction because the manifestation had finally been realized.

So even now she felt as if everything she knew or would ever know about him and about life and love and the cognition of eternity had always been ready to be seen by just picking up the telescope or gazing into the mirror of his eyes.