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: erekle<\/a> via Compfight<\/a> cc<\/a><\/p><\/div>\n White clouds now scuttled across the North Carolina sky and I reached reflexively for the hand of my other half. But my fingers touched only air. I didn\u2019t bother to look. I knew he wasn\u2019t there. He\u2019d never been there. A person so part of me that I\u2019d missed him dozens of times before we even met.<\/p>\n Blue Ridge air wafted around me with the assurance I could become content alone. But today the need only intensified\u2014for the specific man who \u201cgot me,\u201d whom I could touch, who would touch me, mind, emotions, body.<\/p>\n \u201cGod, does that guy exist? Is there someone for me?\u201d<\/p>\n As always, when I asked the question, I heard silence.<\/p>\n The next afternoon in my free time before running the Pritchell Hall elevator, I headed through the tunnel under Highway 70 to the lake for my volunteer lifeguarding stint.<\/p>\n Me, front left with the other staff lifeguards<\/p><\/div>\n While a group of girls who worked at Ridgecrest with me debated whether to sunbathe or swim, I stripped down to my neon yellow tank suit and dove into icy water that was nothing and everything like Shenandoah pool and Biscayne Bay where I\u2019d mermaided my way through childhood. I retrieved my towel, wadded it into a ball, and swam it out to the floating dock. I\u2019d need it later if anyone got into the water for me to guard.<\/p>\n I swam twenty laps between the ropes contemplating why God gave me clear guidance to transfer to a new college in the fall, but kept mum about a man.<\/p>\n I stopped near the shore and the girls surrounded me, whispering.<\/p>\n \u201cWho\u2019s that hunky guy on the dock?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA counselor at the boys\u2019 camp.\u201d<\/p>\n I glanced at the guy, whose dark hair curled on his neck and dripped water down tanned pecs.<\/p>\n The girls waded toward the middle of the roped area, careful to keep their hair dry.<\/p>\n I paddled on my back, eyes on the girls, and headed for the dock\u2014the best vantage point for lifeguarding. Since I\u2019d missed Mr. Perfect Pecs\u2019 swim to the dock while I did laps and thought too hard, I\u2019d better pay attention the rest of my shift.<\/p>\n The guy was even better looking up close.<\/p>\n I clambered onto the dock, gave him a curt nod, and grabbed my towel.<\/p>\n As I pivoted back the way I\u2019d come, his voice rumbled in my ears. \u201cPerfect day for the lake.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPerfect,\u201d I agreed. \u201cI love being able to open my eyes in lake water. I\u2019m from Florida where either chlorine or salt stings your eyes.\u201d I sat on the furthest edge of the dock and focused on my co-workers.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m from Florida, too.\u201d<\/p>\n Thirty minutes later I climbed back down the ladder and swam to the now-empty shore. The kid was in college, studying to become a doctor. Mostly, we\u2019d talked about God\u2014making the guy even more perfect, if that were possible.<\/p>\n The staff cafeteria buzzed with sightings of the hot boys\u2019 camp counselor.<\/p>\n Pritchell 4th Floor Maids: Me top left, Darla bottom center<\/p><\/div>\n I eyed my best friend Darla across the Formica table. \u201cI so<\/em> cannot get a crush on him, not when half the female population of Ridgecrest has gone gaga over the guy!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hear you,\u201d Darla\u2019s southern vowels syruped over me. \u201cI\u2019m just glad I have Duncan and I don\u2019t have to get into that ol\u2019 mess.\u201d I could always count on Darla to be the voice of reason, no matter what my drama.<\/p>\n After my shift scooping ice cream in the Nibble Nook, I dropped into a rocking chair on the breezeway overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains. I pulled out my journal. \u201cWell?\u201d I wrote, wondering where to start in processing meeting Mr. Perfect.<\/p>\n Then, it hit me. God had<\/em> answered my question! He\u2019d parked me on a dock in the middle of a lake that afternoon up-close-and-personal with perfection to say, I\u2019ve got an intelligent, spiritual man who is perfect for you<\/em>.<\/p>\n A warm flush washed over me.<\/p>\n I never saw that guy from the lake again. I would have figured he was an angel or figment of my hyper imagination, except that the female staffers continued to track his whereabouts the rest of the summer.<\/p>\n Miraculously I remained crush-free\u2026 for eleven days.<\/p>\n I sat in the staff dining hall with Darla and her hometown friends from Columbus, Georgia, when a guy I didn\u2019t know sat across from me.<\/p>\n My brows quirked with interest and I elbowed Darla.<\/p>\n \u201cOh my word, Ann.\u201d Darla made my name two syllables. \u201cI forgot you don\u2019t know each other. This is Andy Kelley. He worked here last summer and came to visit for the weekend. Andy, this is Ann Fetterman. We clean rooms together in Pritchell.\u201d<\/p>\n As the group laughed and bantered, quiet explosions of attraction zinged back and forth across the table. As the group made plans for the evening, I noted Andy took charge. I liked leaders.<\/p>\n Andy\u2019s dark eyes focused on me. \u201cCome with us. Pizza in Asheville. It\u2019ll be fun.\u201d<\/p>\n I hesitated.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019ll be more fun for me if you come.\u201d<\/p>\n Well then! \u201cSure, why not.\u201d<\/p>\n All evening Andy made sure I was beside him and the next day he begged me to take a walk. I was torn between wanting to kiss him and seeing the pointlessness of kissing a guy who was headed to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, for grad school while I was transferring to Ashland University in Ohio. Still, he could be The One. So, I kissed him and he promised another visit, letters and calls\u2014a tall order in the days long before cell phones with 300 college students sharing one phone.<\/p>\n After his second weekend visit a month later, my feelings popped and fizzed and filled the summer sky. We\u2019d only had five in-person days together, but I wondered if he was the husband God had in mind for me.<\/p>\n In Ohio, summer, like Andy\u2019s letters and calls, died by degrees. The dregs of my hope disappeared in December.<\/p>\n I pulled out that day on the dock and dusted off God\u2019s promise. Someday I\u2019d feel that breath on my neck.<\/p>\n A poem I penned my first year in Ohio:<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Photo by Mayur Gala<\/p><\/div>\n Perhaps For Love<\/strong><\/p>\n I rode a thousand miles between the yellow lines<\/p>\n That sometimes led me through the mountains, sometimes through<\/p>\n The open air, but always southward, sunward, home.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I missed the waving saw-grass and the needled pines<\/p>\n That grow between the beach and road the winter through.<\/p>\n And missed the winter heat that crawls from sand and chrome.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n But I returned to the road and its yellow lines<\/p>\n To travel north another thousand miles of blue<\/p>\n Sky, white sky, grey, toward the bare trees and wind\u2019s drone.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Perhaps for love, or something less, the chill that climbs<\/p>\n Round red brick buildings in spring will replace the brew<\/p>\n Of southern air in me, and I the north condone.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I\u2019d hiked uphill behind Ridgecrest Baptist Conference Center in Black Mountain, North Carolina. A summer breeze ruffled the nearby leaves and cooled the sweat on my skin. I turned around to a sea of greens my color-blind eyes couldn\u2019t catalogue. A dirt road curled up the mountain toward the day camp and cloudless blue beyond. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4124,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false}}},"categories":[2,340,66],"tags":[655,450,656,452,447,453],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/annleemiller.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/img018.jpg?resize=175%2C300&ssl=1\")
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I could lifeguard from the dock without flirting with the guy\u2014a skill Jackie and I had honed to an art form in high school. Lately, I\u2019d decided that anything that much fun had to be sin. My middle aged self thinks there are enough sins in the Bible without making up more.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/annleemiller.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/img017.jpg?resize=197%2C300&ssl=1\")
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