Imagination

I wonder, does every almost 53-year-old female still imagine?  I do.  Sometimes I think I imagine too much.  To continue to imagine at the ripe old age of almost 53 seems silly, right?  What is it that I could possibly be imagining?  What could I possible still want out of this life that makes me imagine?  Maybe it’s the romantic in me. 

Let my share what I just imagined. 

I’m listening to music.  Landslide by Fleetwood Mac was on.  A song that I have heard hundreds of times.  This time I really listened. I listened to the words.  I thought of their meaning, of the feelings those words evoked deep inside me. And I imagined…

I imagine being in a home with my person, my love.  It’s late spring, maybe early summer. We are in the kitchen together.  Windows are open. A warm summer breeze blowing through the window, rustling the curtain over the sink.  It’s early evening.  We are freshly showered after a day spent outside together. Dinner prep is underway. Beverages are poured.  We cheer our love for each other.  Music is playing softly in the background.  Music is always playing for us.  We work well together in the kitchen, moving around each other, gentle touches, soft kisses, whispers of love.  A song comes on that makes me stop.  Landslide by Fleetwood Mac. I close my eyes, swaying slowly – letting the music guide me.  The music guides to me towards you.  We embrace, hold each other lightly.  My cheek on your shoulder, your chin resting on my head.  We sway together.  So many thoughts, so many feelings.  My mind wanders…how we started, what we endured.  The uncertainty we felt so many times. We made it through the landslide to be in this moment, together.  This, this moment, is so much more than I could ever imagine.