1944

There is music tonight, darling: a dim forest background of melody and a magic violin, a radiant violin carrying hope and ecstasy. And always and always there is you and the memories I have.

Do you remember a pine grove and a hillside and a misty valley? Such children we were, but somehow, I think, we felt the breath of God in the mist around us and we saw the very kernel of life in the old pine tree, split by lightning but thrusting out pathetically determined branches.

You said, "I wanted to get away from their talk", and I, less brave, could only murmur, "I thought maybe I would find that old rock pile".  For those were the days when it was dangerous to be different.

"It's over that way", you told me, but we only smiled rather shyly and didn't move. There was a gentleness in your eyes, an understanding in the very firmness of your mouth. I didn't know, then, that I had been looking for you all my life.

The violin has been joined by another now. The background holds the rustling of trees and the quiet sunlight.

Darling, do you remember a mountainside and an old prospector blasting ineffectually away at a part of the earth?

"Got a piece of land down to the city", he confided somewhat sheepishly. "Can't seem to shake the gold fever though".

Encouraged by our interest he showed us how to witch for gold.

"I've always wondered how that was done", you said, and we both forgot the hard shell of science our generation was supposed to have.

Now the music is coming stronger, the magic violins are rising. Their notes are resonant, deeper, more understanding.

There was the mesa, darling - do you remember? A crescent moon was slipping toward the predatory hands of the mountains.

You said, "When the moon is caught we'll go". We looked at the great hungry fingers. There were so many things we supposed we should say, but some how there were no words - and perhaps - perhaps the bright lights of the far off city and the cool passionless ones in the sky told us everything.

"If you look at the stars", you said, "and make the brightest ones closest and the dim ones farthest away you can feel the universe". All I could see then was a shrouded bowl with pin pricks of light. But now I can feel the universe.

The shadow of the mountain was moving toward us. Your hand touched mine, and then you said my name. The shadow swept over the moon and us, and there were no words - there were no words.

The violins are over-whelmed, and I cannot hear them. Now there is a flood of sound, the beauty and the happiness, the pain and the sorrow. And oh, the violins are gone!

And then - then they tried to tell me that there was no you, that you had ceased to exist, that I must put your name from my heart. They really told me, "tear yourself in half, root out all that is good and fine in you, kill your very soul, your every sense". But I can still laugh, still live, still remember the mist, the moon, the mountain-side. For I know - oh, my darling, I do know - the violins are only hidden.