Silver and Gold

[Morgan LaLuna]

Silver and gold.

Moon and sun.

Cool and Warm.

Wisdom and youth.

Such opposing forces did not meet often, and yet when they did, it was always a remarkable thing. The metallic braid of dual colors that shines in the light of a flickering flame. An eclipse of great power, seen by ancient civilizations as a great omens. The movement of the ocean between two opposing seas, separate and yet mingling to create a beautiful contrast of colors. A wise and generous soul guiding a youthful and undisciplined one with a gentle and patient hand, teaching and yet learning all at once.

The saying “opposites attract” did not come to be for no reason.

Morgan had taken to wandering the cottage again, nearly a nightly ritual when he was at the small and cozy home, taking the time to once again look at those small details that might be missed by those that visited. The particular swirl of wood around a pair of knots in a beam of wood that, to him, looked like an owl. A little scrape in the floor from where he'd tripped and fallen, a buckle on his boot landing just right.

He leaned against the arm of an overstuffed chair that he sometimes joked could swallow a small person whole. Fingertips subconsciously moved to a metal band around his finger, once lost in a fit of doubt, and found again with help. Gold, to the silver. A sun, to oppose the moon. The metal warmed by his own skin was still surprisingly cool to the touch, and he found it pleasant, comforting. A soft sigh blew through his nose, and his eyes half-closed as his head tilted to one side.

He listened to the silence for some sort of reasoning. Some voice that could tell him what to do. Where to go from this point. In the end, the only one he heard was his own. And yet, it was different.

"It took fifteen years for you to realize you loved your best friend."

Morgan looked toward the hearth, and bit his bottom lip. "Four months." He retorted.

"Five more to ask him."

"Why?"

"You doubted yourself."

Morgan did a quick bit of math in his head. "I was old by then."

"That's a little rude… but yes. Forty two years." The voice said ever so softly. "Our life is so short. Twenty years is…"

Morgan looked down to the promise wrapped around his finger. "It's a long time.”

“Yes.”

Morgan waited for more. Clarification. A reason. Anything. But there was nothing. No more came to him. He took a deep and shuddering breath and pushed himself off the chair. Bare feet hardly made any noise as he ended his nocturnal roaming… and went to bed.