The boy sits.  Then stands.  He paces, along the rustling riverbank, eyebrows furrowed.  This is taking too long, and he is worried.  Still he paces.  The breeze ruffles his hair, catching some of the strands in its grasp.  It travels waywardly, making eddies in the tall grass on the banks of the river, and little whirlpools in the water.  The air grows a bit brighter.  The boy’s head whips to the bridge and he runs up to it, crunching the gravel under his feet and standing at the middle, peering eagerly towards the wood on the other side.  For a while he sees nothing.  Then very slowly, a form appears.  A woman, maybe in her 40’s or so.  Her hair is shoulder length and layered, her face a sweet heart shape.  She is wearing knee length sweat pants, a baggy tee shirt, no shoes.  Her white tee shirt has slashes of red splattering the front.  Her lips are a dark blue and her skin has a translucent fishy pallor.  Tear stains are all over her face and shirt.  Red gashes cover the insides of her forearms, masking countless older scars.  Her eyes are dark and sunken in.  She is too skinny. The way she carries herself reminds the boy of the way a candy maker handles the hardened sugar formations that are nearly as thin as paper.  The girl doesnt want to shatter herself.  She walks toward the bridge with shaking feet making no noise.  It is the girl.  She breaks from the trees and sees the boy on the bridge.  The girl breaks into a tripping run the rest of the way, hair flying and eyes wet with yet more unshed tears.  She stops a short distance from the boy on the bridge.  There they wait, looking at each other across the divide.  A bird calls, the river flows on, the wind ruffles.  They look at each other, barely breathing, not daring to break the spell.  The girl slowly walks forward to the boy, where he is rooted.  Her each step is careful, measured and quiet, as if she is afraid that one misstep will send her away from the boy.  She comes closer to the boy and reaches out her hand extending it through the thin veil.  It touches the boy’s face lightly, with just the fingertips and the boy feels like snow has fallen on his face.  The unshed tears create silent glistening tracks on her cheeks and mouth, her eyes shine with some emotion.  The boy’s lips tremble and tears run into his shaking mouth and chin.  Such sweet were these tears, such emotion they conveyed, such joy.  The boy puts a hand to his face slowly, placing his hand atop the hand of the girl’s.  The heat leaches out of him and goes into the girl.  The girl steps forward one tiny step, the boy steps back.  Again they step, bringing the girl across the veil, transforming her to the girl of many years ago.  Her hair lengthens, growing fuller and shinier.  Her face loses its haunted emaciated look.  Her fingernails form perfect ovals rather than ragged, bitten off nubs.  Her pale skin loses its marks and becomes healthy.  The sparkles are sprinkling back into her glassy eyes, and her figure becomes once again whole.  The traces of her pain have faded.  Again she is young, the age of the boy.  She is finally over.  The boy hugs her and more silent tears run down their faces.  A joy wells in them that is too big to comprehend.  The girl is finally home.  This embrace, those hands, those eyes, those lips.  They are her home.  They are shaking.  Their tears eventually make it onto the bridge, and the boy and girl stand there embracing.  This bridge that has brought so many to the other bank, it brings the boy and girl home.  Such was there joy and relief, never was there a meeting as sweet as this.  The river flows on and the wind ruffles on.   A butterfly flutters into the pearly sky and the sun shines.  The boy and girl embrace still.