Keeping a Promise

Britain watched the sailing boat tack up to the dock, wrestling with the anticipation in his heart. Days of worry and nights of sleeplessness were erased from his memory by the image in his head – partly memory but never the same way twice – of you running to him and throwing yourself into his arms. He lived for these days when you were reunited with him.

He knew about your quirk – you'd never tried to hide it. It was one of the reasons he loved you.

You were a wanderer. The sea was in your blood. You loved Britain wholeheartedly and had proved it to him time and again, but the sea held more power over you than he could ever hope to. That was why he'd learned to accept your departures and your absences.

But the reunions were an unexpected joy.

He was pulled out of his memories when he heard you shout his name and saw you running towards him. He ran too and met you halfway, wrapping you up in a hug with uncharacteristic abandon.

Three weeks later he awoke to a still house and a note. You were off again, this time to the north to visit the Nordic countries. You sent him your love, reminded him to drink the milk before it went bad, and promised to return just like you did in every letter.

Britain read and reread the note a dozen times but the words stayed the same. It brought out all the old emotions. Anger: you'd gone and left again! Sadness: it was so lonely without you. Fear: would you be alright? Would good sailing weather hold? Finally resignation: you'd be back in time.

You always came back. After all, you'd made a promise.

This time you weren't gone long, just a few weeks. And when you returned, it was the same reunion scene played out all over again.

That night as you lay sleeping in bed beside him, Britain remained awake. He was growing tired of this cycle, but he couldn't seem to stop it. Forcing you to stay on land forever would break your heart just as surely as a breakup would.

He finally hit upon the solution around midnight. He couldn't force you to stay and he couldn't give you up, so next time he would go with you.

You were overjoyed when he told you. You'd always known how rough it was on Britain each time you left. The sadness kept growing, but you were helpless to change your ways. Past efforts lay deep in your memory as some of the worst times in your relationship.

But suddenly you were worried. Britain was a country after all, and his presence was needed here. Could he really afford to join you?

He assured you he could use a vacation – but he had promised to be back in two weeks.

You agreed immediately. You'd do everything you could to help him keep his promise.

The journey was unforgettable. Together you sailed all the way to the Mediterranean to visit old friends and see the sights.

Britain remembered his youth and his time as a pirate – the freedom of the open ocean brought it all back. And with you by his side, he fully appreciated the passion that kept you away so often.

The joy on your face each morning, the satisfaction on your sleeping face at night – he'd never seen anything so perfect, so beautiful. You were alive out here in a way you couldn't be on land.

You both returned home on the last day, both secretly disappointed that it couldn't last forever. But Britain understood now. He swore to himself that he would be more understanding the next time you left.

A week passed. Then two. Then a month.

Each morning Britain awoke expecting you to be gone.

Each morning he awoke with you still beside him.

Eventually he gathered the courage to ask why.

You smiled and told him what you'd realized on that last trip. You'd finally seen what your journeys were missing.

And you weren't going to leave without him again.

The years passed and you were always there. Britain never woke up to silence and a note again.

But every now and then, when you didn't think he was looking, he would see you staring out at the ocean with that look on your face. But you never left.

Whenever he could manage it, Britain would take vacation time and you both would go sailing again. Your child-like joy made him happier than anything else he could imagine. But each time he wondered if you'd someday grow tired of him and return to the ocean again.

A few times he tried to make you promise that you would stay beside him forever. But you would never do it.

You would just smile.

Finally the day came when he realized why you couldn't make that promise.

After all, you were only human.

The funeral had been beautiful. It had been held out at sea, with deep blue water all around.

Britain knew you would've wanted it that way.

So many nations had been there. He hadn't had any idea that you'd known that many of them. You would've been pleased by all the attention they gave you.

When the service was over Britain had scattered your ashes over the side of the boat. Some landed in the water. The rest took to the air.

You were off again.

A polished rock in a graveyard. Yours.

Britain knew nothing of you was here. This place was for him. A spot to lay flowers when the loneliness threatened to swallow him.

And on one day out of the year it was something special.

A crowd was gathered to watch. Believers and skeptics, scientists and clergy, all carrying umbrellas, all mixed together. Britain didn't care. This day was for him, not them.

It started.

From a cloudless blue sky, rain fell. A quick downpour became a light, steady drizzle. As one the crowd looked up.

A strong, clear rainbow hung in the sky, its edges as sharp and distinct as if it'd been painted there. A collective gasp rose from the throng.

An hour later the rain stopped and the rainbow vanished. The crowd began to argue incoherently about the strange annual phenomenon.

Wet with tears and rain, Britain's face was silently smiling. He knew the truth.

You were still keeping your promise to him.