The sun’s golden gaze would find a welcome elsewhere.
The stars, their radiance doomed in the nightly competition with Manhattan’s lights, would most assuredly, if invisibly, fill the darkening sky.
And Catherine would come home from the office.
He thought of her … as he did every moment with every breath … and smiled at the picture forming in his mind: the expectant way she would call his name as soon as their front door was secured behind her; the dull thud of her briefcase unceremoniously dropped near the desk in their great room; the trail of outerwear and other accoutrements scattered about as she searched the house for him.
In these early spring days it would be her shoes, toed-off near the stairs … a jacket, slipping smoothly to the floor from its unsure perch on the back of his leather recliner … her purse, tossed gingerly onto the couch, spilling keys and wallet … and, on occasion, the bracelets and earrings that ‘annoyed’ her by day’s finish, deposited in a careless heap on the mantel over the fireplace.
At the end, or in the midst of this unscripted performance that so endeared her to him, she would drop into his arms, submerging herself in all that he was and in all that he offered only to her. And he’d hold her in a silence that whispered of their infinite love and unbounded commitment … overcome by the ecstasy of her in his arms … until she’d fidget to lean slightly away to gaze into his beautiful face. It was their end-of-the-workday ceremony … no words … each heart accepting the other’s cherished gift of self to be tucked safely away in their shared soul.
Then normalcy would return with sweet phrases that tried to say what had just been experienced, the backtracking to gather her things, the little drama that her changing into jeans and t-shirt had become … preparing dinner, relaxing with music or a book, recounting the day lived not quite wholly apart from the other.
This night, though, he did not release her. He needed to share his tale within the warmth of her embrace.
“Catherine, I saw … today I saw … a small rabbit … sitting in the grass …” His voice was tinted with a breathless awe, yet it was strong with the certain faith that she would feel what his words could not hope to approach. “It was … Catherine, I’d never seen a rabbit ... only pictures in books or sometimes on TV …”
“Oh, Vincent,” she whispered, hugging him harder. His joyful amazement brought grateful tears to her eyes. “I want you to know all that is beautiful in our world …”
“You are my world, my love, and its wonders are your gift to me.” He kissed her with the most tender passion, then, folding his fingers gently around hers, led her through the open French doors, out into the darkening garden, to show her where the bunny had been.