Life is complicated. At times, as hard as we try, we are unable to make amends for our transgressions.

Then, when we least expect it, a twist of fate enables us to recapture the past we thought we had lost, as becomes evident in . . .

My Impossible Dream

It did not occur to me you might be standing on the corner that Thursday

     in May.

I walked toward you, unsure of how you would respond to what I had to say.

You stood alone, appearing lost in thought, adrift in your own world, traveling 

     to some distant place.

Your body was rigid, like a statue on the lawn of an estate, poised to

     stand fast and resist any interface.

I had not seen you for over three months, since the gloomy Saturday           

     afternoon you told me to leave.

It broke my heart, but I could not think of a way to ask you for a reprieve.

Did our relationship have to end this way, or would it have been possible for 

     you to accept my apology?

I had planned to come to you to plead my case, but the timing never           

     seemed right, and I began to believe our parting was meant to be.

However, seeing you again gave me renewed hope that I might have a        

     chance to explain.

But you are not looking in my direction, so how do I approach you without  

     causing further pain?

Should I just turn and leave, walk away again, and live my life without          

     you—alone and distraught?

God, I have made a mess of things and lost the best thing that ever    

     happened to me, I thought.

Engulfed in my own grief, I wallowed in self-pity—believing I probably   

     did not deserve you anyway.

I closed my eyes and prayed for the chance to make right the wrongs of

     my past and to see a brighter day.

Then, without warning, I heard the screeching of brakes, and my body 

     flew through the air.

I felt nothing, but this could not be. To be taken without the opportunity to  

     mend my ways was not fair.

The lights in the tunnel to hell burned bright, as my soul twisted and 

     turned in anguish and dismay.

But hell has no light and darkness prevails to punish the sins of those         

     whose souls are chosen to be taken away.

I drifted in puzzlement, not knowing what to make of the inconsistencies

     of thought that passed through my mind.

I longed for the answer to my question about a love lost, but knew in my      

     heart it was not mine to find.

Heart—heart beating loudly, but how can this be, for my soul exited and

     left my body behind?

Noises—machines, people—what in heaven’s name does this mean?

     For the answer, I pined.

    

I am being touched—softly, with kindness. Is this God coming to rescue

     me from my dying hell?

A voice. I think I hear words, but this is impossible, for I died and from

     the Lord’s grace I fell.

The words are getting louder. “Wallace, can you hear me? My dearest        

     Wallace, please take my hand.”

I reached out and grasped the warm palm of an angel, whose fingers          

     intertwined with mine, moving my wedding band.

Wedding band—but I am not married—and I am dead, so this cannot be.

“Wallace, do not try to speak. It is me, your wife, Laura. Open your 

     eyes and see.”

My eyes flooded with tears when I saw Laura standing over me, as     

     beautiful as the day I noticed her on the corner that Thursday

     in May.

“I thought I had lost you forever, my darling, when that drunken driver’s

     car hit you and came close to taking your life away.

“I could not believe our twenty years of marriage might be stolen by that      

     brute, causing me great strife.

I need you, the man of my dreams, father of our three children, and the 

     love of my life.”

Twenty years, three children? Confused, I could not utter a word, but the    

     warmth in my heart radiated through the smile on my face.

The only woman I ever loved touched my heart and soul, and I did not

     want to be in any other place.

Somehow, at sometime, Laura did accept my apology for what I had

     done, but the answer of how and when may elude me for eternity.

But does it really matter? My life is now complete and, in spite of this lack    

     of clarity, “My Impossible Dream” has become a reality.

Copyright © 2018 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.