Molly on the Far Shore

photo by *amber e*.

A young woman wore a summer dress and danced in the sun on the far side of the river. Her name was Molly, a redheaded Irish girl with green, green eyes like pale green tea. Her large family of redheaded siblings and redheaded parents and aunts and uncles picnicked on a nearby knoll. On the other side of the river, a young boy stood on a sandbar and watched her dance. Even from across the water, he could see the green of her eyes and her red, red hair. He concentrated on ways to get across; surely he could beat the currents, he thought. Maybe with enough longing, he could overlook the fact that he never learned to swim. Maybe he could hold open his coat like sails and catch a strong wind gusting down the valley. He watched her twirl and felt his spirit grow light enough to lift him up, but his feet remained anchored to the shore. He scrambled twenty yards up the shoreline to a small boat pulled onto the sand, tied to a willow tree. He fumbled with the rope, but he couldn’t figure out the secrets of the knot.

A young boy sat in a wooden boat tied to a tree. Molly danced on the far shore.