There was this boy at school who once brought in a song that he said defined him – Paul Simon’s “I am a rock, I am an island.” He kept himself apart, so no-one could ever laugh at him, or make him feel foolish.

It worked for about five years, until this girl came along and started chipping at him.  The next year, he stopped being an island, or at least, put up a flimsy bridge for only one person to cross.  The girl.

There were still times when he wanted to be an island again, and there always will be.  But since the bridge was made, since the girl crossed it, she’s not going to leave.  After four years of being geographically apart, they joined forces.  That was eleven years ago now.

The bridge has been crossed by some horrible things, but he has sheltered her from them, and they never get in as far as they could, because of him.  In fact, I think the self-definition is wrong: he is not an island anymore.  He’s definitely a rock though, and the girl will always be stronger and braver because of him.  She will always be so glad that he threw across that bridge, and that she crossed it.