Beautiful Dream (IP)

The tune playing on the piano was familiar. A haunting melody.

It echoed from the root cellar to the the old creaky rafters and back again. Forcing me out of my bed and into my robe.

What is it dear? says my wife.

Don’t know yet. Matches, matches. What did I do with the damn matches?

Under your nightcap, where you always put them.

Ah, yes, of course.

I don’t know what I’m missing most, my memory or my teeth. The teeth I can replace. My memories long gone. Replaced by a childlike senility I find comforting. My wife calls it growing old, but she still has all her marbles, so she can say what she wants. Me? I’m as happy as a village idiot. And if that job ever needs filling, I’m your man. I wouldn’t even ask for wages.

As I descend the stairs with my candle in hand, I start humming. As I hum the piano stops playing, as though I’ve interrupted its concentration.

Then I find myself singing like I did in the old days, when I would break out in song any chance I’d get.

I’ll see you in my dreams
Hold you in my dreams. . .

On the stairs I’m as light as a feather. Fred Astaire’s got nothing on this kid, I say, as I remove my top hat and watch as a thousand matches spill out and dance about my feet, offering me guidance as I make my way down the final few steps.

I tip my hat to the matches and watch as they make their way to the piano. Lighting the caldelabra in stylish fashion.

Smoke from the candelabra’s flames flicker and send lilting streams of smoke that seem to spell out a familiar word in this house: Welcome.

I’m delighted with the word and glide toward the old black Steinway, resting my candle next to our wedding photo.

Remembering not to sit on my tails, I flip them aside in a graceful manner and sit at the piano.

Grand to see you, I joke.

The Steinway tinkles a few joyous notes and starts to play a very familiar tune. Our wedding song.

To lead a better life I need my love to be here...

Here, making each day of the year
Changing my life with a wave of her hand
Nobody can deny that there's something there

My wife was never much of a Beatles fan and couldn’t understand why I’d chosen a Beatles tune for our most important song.

Listen to the words, I told her. Listen to the words.

There, running my hands through her hair
Both of us thinking how good it can be
Someone is speaking but she doesn't know he's there

I always knew that if I found the right one, Here, There and Everywhere would be our wedding song. I did. And it was.

I want her everywhere and if she's beside me
I know I need never care
But to love her is to need her everywhere
Knowing that love is to share

It’s been twenty six years and I’ve never looked at another woman in quite the same way.

Never will. Never want to.

Each one believing that love never dies
Watching her eyes and hoping I'm always there

That marriage produced an only child. A son. We had to work at having a child. It didn’t come easy. And we’ve never regretted the effort. It’s fruits had the most marvelous affect. A beautiful son. A young man now. A wonderful young man.

I want her everywhere and if she's beside me
I know I need never care
But to love her is to need her everywhere
Knowing that love is to share

A shared love is something grand indeed. Not everyone’s so fortunate. Look close and hang on tight. The one for you may be at hand.

Each one believing that love never dies
Watching her eyes and hoping I'm always there

Never take the ones you love for granted. They are not going to be there forever. Neither will you.

To be there and everywhere
Here, there and everywhere

My wife sits beside me at the piano and hands me my nightcap, a joke gift from friends on my sixtieth birthday. Meant as an old-age joke. But I wear it just the same. No joke.

What’s wrong, she says, why are you so teary eyed you old mush pod.

I’m in love, I tell her. I’m in love.