imagination

She imagines walking barefoot on the sand, taking care not to step over the shells and seaweed strewn on the beach.  She imagines the wind and the sound of the ocean loud enough to drown out the most persistent thoughts.  She imagines holding your hand and whispering nothings, sweet or not.  She imagines peace.

The child imagines a ladybug and the merry-go-round.  He imagines going round and round and shouting with joy.  He imagines the rainbow in the sky.  He imagines playing with his friends.  He takes a bite of his bread slice, looks at the remaining piece and imagines a colourful parachute drifting down in the blue sky.  The child's mind is full of imagined things.  Some so wonderful and fantastic that life seems like it is full of nothing but possibilities.  As it should be.  And she, when seeing the child imagine these wonderful and fantastic things, is transported to that special place again.  She realizes the sheer joy of imagining like a child.

You imagine a conversation.  A thought.  A feeling.  You imagine that good things will prevail.  You imagine a world where intent is enough.  Where patience is a rewarding virtue.  You imagine that silence is just as stimulating as a conversation.  You imagine that love so strong shall bind forever.  Indeed, you imagine that love will be enough.  Now and forever.  And she, she imagines all the passed time condensed into a single minute that flashes before her eyes.  She imagines what you imagine, for a brief second.  And in that brief second, she experiences clarity, and ecstasy.