The glare of the sea's waves reflected off of the moisture in Johnny and River's eyes. This reminded each of them why they were in this spot for their marriage. Anya's light wavered over the dusk-sprinkled ocean, the edge of the cliff piercing the once open water. Rugged from earthquakes, the constant shift of plates shoving the earth past its barriers.
Johnny looked down. His wedding ring stared at him. He took a moment to remember his past with River, whom he was now ready to spend the rest of his life with. His first memory with her… What happened exactly?
Johnny vaguely remembered tension in his mind and stress in his muscles; the day he asked River to see a movie: their first date. She was different from the others. That day she expressed her love for lighthouses. An interesting hobby, Johnny thought. Strange. But he couldn't think of it for long, or his stress would take over and he would make their conversation awkward. Foolish to think, really. The conversation itself was a failure… To the average person. Johnny and River were not these average people. This seemingly unimportant conversation could mold the rest of their lives, like a sculptor shaping clay. But it was wrong.
Destruction of one's mind can be a traumatizing event. But for others it can feel harmless. It isn't. Johnny's younger brother, Joey, had passed away due to a tragic accident when they were very young. Their mother's glance in the mirror of her car was premature. She had no idea that her own son had wandered into the driveway, and disaster occurred. In this situation, a traumatized family could only be healed by one antidote: forgetting. Unfortunately, the pills used for this procedure generally removed untargeted memories. This included Johnny's actual first meeting with River.
River remembered everything differently. She remembered it correctly, despite her condition. She sauntered back to her original position on her log. Well, not HER log, but it may as well have been. Besides, every year at the carnival she ended up at this spot; it allowed the best view for the twinkling lighthouses. Each one winked at her repeatedly, as if the light on each one was rotating to signal ships. They were not lighthouses, however. It was just a philosophy of a girl. These "lighthouses" were, of course, just stars. River looked at what she thought would be a vacant spot on her log. Instead, a small boy, the same age as her, had sat himself there. A young boy named Johnny. It was hard for River to get along with people; they just weren't lighthouses, so simple to understand. But this boy was different. Their imaginations complemented each other, each one merging like the water meeting sand on a beach. The moon is where they would meet if they could not find each other again. The real truth.
It is difficult for one to understand another's sorrows. Tragedies can erect a shadow over important moments. River would not understand why Johnny's memory was different from her's. A maze clouded Johnny's mind. Without reason, he knew where he needed to be. A corrupted memory shreds the details one used to know. But Johnny remembered one last detail of this faded memory. The moon.