Imagine

JoAnn Baca

The hush of early morning permeated the park on this midsummer'sday. Dew sparkled in crystalline facets upon countless shades ofgreen, a light breeze twitching droplets from the leaves whichspattered softly on the bridle paths and grassy slopes. The firstjoggers had not yet appeared, the human presence in the parkconsisting only of the well-hidden, sleeping homeless...and the lonecloaked figure prowling the edges of a path. For the moment - thislast, precious moment - Central Park still belonged to him.

He paused by the mosaic in Strawberry Fields, the gentle reminderto "Imagine" never necessary to him - for so much in his life,imagining took the place of experiences he could never know. Hesmiled ruefully as he regarded the word for the merest moment, then,forgetting it almost as soon as he turned away, he sought that forwhich he had come: there, the one bench out of the many near theconfluence of the paths. He didn't need to approach it, for his sharpeyes had already pierced the semi-gloom of this shaded place to pickout the words on the plaque affixed to it:

He shuddered as he read, the same reaction evoked, undiminished,no matter how many times he saw the words. The hairs on the back ofhis neck rose, pricking against the rough wool of his cloak. Thatparticular phrase, so often repeated during his delirium, stillgripped his soul with a ferocity which dismayed him. He had nearlydied during that dark time, and so much else had nearly died with him- the fragile dream he shared with Catherine, the possibilities stillunknown.... Perhaps even Catherine herself would not have survivedfor long had he given in to the malevolent shadows which had tried toclaim him then. And those words...clanging, skittering, throbbingwithin his brain, like a clarion, like a sentence of doom, punctuatedevery remembered moment.

He had...almost...been lost - to himself, to his world, toCatherine. Love might have survived, but at what cost? For those hewould have left behind, the love would have been bittersweet at best,a deadly curse at worst - for Catherine had told him often since ofher firm resolve to follow him if her own heart did not first breakwith grief. Death would then have surely had dominion, except in thememories of those he had loved. No flowery words on a page - or aplaque - could have quelled that dismal verdict of "death," nopromise of eternity could have had any meaning for those who wouldhave been left bereft by his passing.

That time - long ago now, a year in the past - was for him aturning point. When Catherine had pulled him back from the brink ofoblivion by the sheer force of her love for him, he had finally facedthe truths which he had hidden from for so long. He was loved -completely, truly, utterly - and not just for his mind or hisabilities, but for every element of his nature, his soul and hisheart. The realization that he was as necessary as breath to thewoman he loved beyond thought, beyond scope, nearly beyond lifeitself, had shaken him to his depths. He could no longer deny her thefulfillment of the dream they had shared, had nurtured...had achedfor in silent yearning. He had owed her that much, at least, forcalling him back to life, for reaching through their Bond to grasphis life force, to will him again to consciousness - to return to herand all that life offered to them both

He read the words once more, defiantly this time. Death had nothad dominion, for his Catherine had decreed it would not. She hadensured that those words, uttered once in such despair, would notprevail. Love held dominion now - and would for a long time to come.There was so much in his life now, so much he had never thoughtpossible before. Catherine had been the alchemist who had turned hisdesperation and hopelessness into a wondrous existence filled withhappiness, serenity, delight - the golden light of her love hadbanished every dark place within him, as surely as if she had erasedthose insidious words from every page upon which they had ever beenprinted. That they existed still, here, Above, was a testament onlyto the sad lack of her light within its confines - for she dweltBelow now, and her love and light expanded to fill every cavern andchamber until within the tunnels was contained a universe of joy.

It had been some time since he'd come here, but the anniversary ofhis deathly illness had drawn him for some reason. Now he understoodwhy. At this moment, contemplating all his life now held, themiracles of love and peace and hope, with a shining future stretchingout before him which dazzled his eyes, he knew: no longer would thesewords haunt him. No longer would they hold the strange power over himwhich had for so long lingered as the only shadow within his heart.They were banished - perhaps not obliterated, but relegated to thetrashbin of his memory, to hold sway over him no more.

The soft tread upon the path behind him shook him from hisreverie. Startled, he turned, already lifting the hood of his cloakto hide his face. But he stopped almost at once, for in the nextinstant he recognized the step as that of the woman he loved...andthe soft cooing of the babe in her arms as their child...hischild. Possibilities...miracles...light...happiness - all these didthe sweet presence before him presage.

"I thought I might find you here," she murmured.

He could see the apprehension in her eyes, the worry that thewords on the plaque would bring back painful memories, dredge up oldinsecurities, provoke a return of dormant doubts. Was she right?

He looked back at the words once more, noting without surprisethat they were suddenly...merely words. Their power had fled beforehis life's joy. He was not lost anymore - hadn't been lost for along, long time - and his mind had finally acknowledged thatfact.

Dismissing the bench, the mosaic, the world he once longed to be apart of, he turned once and for all toward the world which was all hewould ever need. Taking two steps forward, he engulfed his Belovedwithin a fierce but gentle embrace. Then he looked down into thesolemn blue eyes of their child, caressing him with his glance,taking in the downy fluff on his cheeks and chin, the delicate flatnose and the tiny arched brows. The beauty he saw there astonishedhim - that a child with his features could beso...perfect...still stunned him.

A slight yet firm hand caught him by the chin and turned his face,and he found himself drowning in eyes of intense liquid green, theforehead above them still creased in concern. He realized he hadn'tspoken yet, and that his lack of a reply had caused her anxieties toincrease despite the tranquility of his mind. The Bond was strongwithin her now, but sometimes she needed the reassurance of words -old fears occasionally afflicted her as well.

"I'm finished with this," he said, his face calm, his eyesreflecting the peace he felt brimming within him. Her brow clearedand she nodded. A soft smile lit her face, his beacon in the swiftlydeparting gloom. Together, they disappeared down the path, throughthe hedges, into the trees - toward home.