Andromeda Aurora Herron
It’s the same old sappy story, about the boy and the girl that were bestest of friends. Until the fateful night when the moon light shined across her face and made her eyes pierce through his soul. The beginning of so many love stories start with the little Hollywood dream of being best friends and falling in love after one night changed everything. I’m here to debunk this theory and to uphold the truth of the manner. Love slowly grows deep within a person after a series of moments that makes the person a necessity in your life.
Andromeda and I became best friends after I noticed her trying to balance a straw on her nose in a old little cafe I worked at. Unlike most people she didn’t realize her craziness after a few years of closeness. No, she unveiled her silly little pet peeves and ideas right away to let you know that she didn’t care you saw her as silly or strange. She was incredible comfortable with yourself, the type of comfort you admire and dreamed of having yourself. Our friendship sparked the moment she giggled and encouraged me to balance on my nose for so called, “funnies,” her laughter, her smile, her eyes, were all the things I ignored about her. Went made us close was her thoughtfulness and understanding. She never failed to listen, and I grew to love that about her. We would dance to the words that flowed from Glenn Miller through the radio and have deep conversations on were the world is headed. She was perfect for me, but my younger self didn’t notice this reality at the time.
My favorite memory of Andromeda was the night I asked for the meaning of her name. She took ahold of my hand and dragged me outside in the midst of fall. She pointed into the night sky, at a strange ‘W’ looking constellation. “That’s Queen Cassiopeia, the mother of princess Andromeda in the greek story of the heroic demigod Perseus!” She told the story with glee as she pointed and gasped at the gorgeous sight of the stars forming images in the sky. It was the beginning of longest, deepest, and most memorable conversation I would ever have with another person. The brisk breeze made our noses red, as the smell of her lavender perfume filled the air, the soft sound of her voice danced in the air as she told the backgrounds of the constellations lives and what they meant to her. The view was stunning, the stars shinning from thousands to billions of light years away and yet they were there to produce the start of a conversation that would later be my motivation to live. I looked over at her face, as she helplessly glanced at each star. I spoke, “Which one is your favorite?” Turning to look at me with her soft hazel eyes, I knew she had never been asked this before. Looking back at the night sky she answered whispery, “Orion,” she stopped for a moment, “everyone assumes it’s Andromeda I guess, but Orion was such a beautiful tragic character and the stars that form him as well.” For a moment we were silent until she regained the ability to speak. “For some reason, Orion speaks to my soul,” she choked. This led to my first hug of a non-family member, I usually avoided physical contact with others since I feared intimacy. As I watched her shoulders drop and her head fall, I knew she needed it. Now if this was Hollywood, Andromeda and I would have started dating and lived happily ever after, but life isn’t a movie and we never shared another moment as intimate as that one again. We just went back to being everyday best friends and acted as thought it never happened.
After graduation we had dinner at the old cafe where we first met. Drinking shakes and laughing about the goofy past of being a high schooler. While I was walking Andromeda home we passed my house and my mother was on her knees, in tears, and holding a letter that would bring my daydream of a life down to a pit of fire know as reality. I was being drafted and later that same day President Franklin announced that the inevitable had occurred and America was entering World War II to help defeat Nazi Germany. The days before I left were long and dreadful. The air felt harsh, the world looked dark, and everything smelled of distress. All my family and friends were there to say their good-byes before I walked onto the plane to my dreary destiny of combat. My mother in tears as she kissed my forehead and traced my face possibly for the last time. She let the silent tears fall as my father shook my hand and screamed with his eyes, “please make it back.” The hardest good-bye was Andromeda’s. Looking down at the the journal that she was clucking onto. When she looked up, the sadness took over the room and nearly brought me to tears . Handing me the journal and whispered in my ear, “write down everything you want to talk about when you get back,” she smiled and stepped back to hug my mother as I walked on passed security. Looking back for one more glance at the people I loved.
Years have passed, and I still haven’t gather the guts to tell Andromeda that all I ever do is think about her. I realized I loved her after I was asked what I missed most about the world before the war. Before I drift into a uncomfortable sleep I look up at the sky and watch the constellations float in the sky with the stories roaming in my head. Every night this happens and every night I miss her more and more. I started realizing that I did pay attention to all the little details about her like how she would randomly make faces when there was an awkward situation and silently laugh at her own jokes. How she winked, crinkled her nose, and how she positioned herself around people. With me, her movements were always more open and relaxed. I miss being back home. I miss are conversations. I miss our adventures. I miss her. At least I get to look forward to the end of every month for her letter.
The letters she sends always goes into extreme detail about her past month, how my family is doing, and strange questions for me to answer. Through these letters I have opened up to my inner desires and told her about a select few of my dreams. The dreams I had as a kid of being a writer and traveling the world. Andromeda was truly excited to learn this and once she mentioned that felt closer to me now then when I was actually next to her. I truly hope someone won’t come and steal her heart away from me, which is probably the cause for my sudden openness with my feelings and past.
“Your mail sergeant!” announced the pilot. Once me and him had a deep conversation of life before the arrival of Adolf Hitler and how marvelous it was. Now he drops off my mail personal along with the monthly supplies my squad receives. During lunch, I sat in my tent and read her beautiful letter that was filled with jokes of the present and future dreams that she claims are for sure to happen plans. The last sentenced she states, “If you want to be a writer, then why don’t you write a fairytale for?” What a wonderful thought in her pretty little head, yet all I could think about was war, staying alive, and Andromeda. I found a way to write a story for her anyways.
Andromeda this is the true story about a dummy in love with a girl that is beyond out of his league. The war separated us, but the feelings haven’t faded instead they have grown deep within me and are starting to overflow my entire body. Please wait for me. I know this is sappy and stupid. I know that it’s not the Hollywood dream that you deserve, but it’s good enough for me if it’s good enough for you. I would do my best to make all your dreams come true. Oh Andromeda you are more than what anyone could ever ask for and I do truly love you.