(This is part of the Fragments of Fiction story)
What we have here is a simple story about a boy and a girl who met and fell in love under the most unlikely circumstances. It is a tale that has all of the elements of a Shakespearean play and aspects of a Greek tragedy.
Two people who in the midst of living separate lives stumbled onto each other and discovered that someone out there was able to touch them in a way that no one else had. Two individuals who took an initial leap of faith and jumped into the fire, praying that the love they shared would shield them from the flames.
And for a long time they lived a life of longing and hope for a future that might allow them to be together. After a while they found that life got in the way of their dreams. It wasn’t any one thing or another that made the difference, but a collection of events and moments that caused a fissure and moments of doubt and uncertainty.
It is not the first time that this story has been written nor will it be the last. But the thing that distinguishes this boy and this girl is that they were both given extraordinary amounts of will. Separately they each had a strong personality but together they had something unique and they knew it.
The things that they had shared and the experiences they had forged a bond that wasn’t going to be severed or broken. It would be tested and at times strained, but never broken. During the hard times it wasn’t easy to touch or think about it. During the good times it was painful to be separated and during the hard times, well it was easier not to admit how deeply in love they were.
So they both retreated and did what they could to hide their feelings. It wasn’t because they had died or changed but because it was too hard to let the fires burn. But as they say, still waters run deep and they were no different.
If you ask me how I came to be so familiar with this story it is because it is my story, or should I say it is our story. That is how I know. That is why I sit here at the keyboard, struggling to share a story that outsiders cannot possibly understand. I can provide you with glimpses of the secret world, but I can’t let you in because you aren’t part of it.
And so this how I have come to this place, this moment in time where I share my struggle with you. This where I tell you about how I promised to write a song for June and how hard it has been to do so. It hasn’t been hard because of a lack of effort or desire. It hasn’t been hard for any reason other than I want her to see what I see.
I want it to show her what she looks like in Johnny’s eyes. I want her to see the woman I see, full of grace and class. I want her to see eyes that sparkle and curves that speak of things that make us blush. I want her to see my best friend and companion. I want her to see the honesty and truth of it all.
The beauty and grace of her walk and the love and care that radiates from her. Lips that were made to be kissed and hands that fit perfectly in my own.
You see, I can write all that down and more. I can find ways to share those thoughts and feelings. I can write it down, but I agonize over how to show that she is the song of my soul. I agonize over how to do it in a manner that is not cheesy or disrespectful. I agonize over how to do it in a way that doesn’t steal from other artists. I want it to be original.
So here I sit, staring at June’s picture, lost in it all. So many promises, so much potential and so much more.
So here I sit pondering the possibilities. Old Johnny is a dreamer, a man who dreams in bright colors, collages of images parade past my eye. How do I translate what I see from that which flows inside into a chorus of sound.
I am torn between wanting to write a symphony or a simple song to be played with a guitar. Maybe it should be both. What I know for certain is that in a quiet moment I want to sing it softly to her. I think that for now I am going to let it marinate inside my head a bit longer.
But before I go I’ll share some of the images in my head, things I see.
Quiet walks through woods during Autumn and summer nights of roller coasters and cotton candy.
Dinner and dancing, long black gowns and tuxedos.
A castle they share and quiet moments at home.
Plane rides to far off places and adventures to be had.
Now comes the hard part of trying to weave this tapestry of sights and sounds into something that can be sung. Or maybe we would be better served to make a movie out it, we shall see.