The question remains as to why Sarah was alone at all. Why was it that Sarah stood by the window that night? On closer examination, the answer should be obvious to all, she loved him! Sarah was not to blame for falling in love with a Frenchman. Matters of the heart are known to ignore any boundary put in place. Varguennes would come back, it was as certain as the sun rising in the east, and setting in the west.
Standing vigil at the window, Sarah did feel compelled to jump, if only for a few seconds. Thinking better of it, she realized life was too precious, and that the feelings of sadness she was experiencing would soon be gone, and forgotten, overshadowed by the years of happiness and fulfillment ahead.
It would have made Sarah content to possess the knowledge that she was not the only solitary figure that night. Far across the ocean, a ship was carrying a man in possession of a ring, gazing toward the horizon, where his love awaited him. However, no one would be able to predict the terrible tragedy that would befall that ship two nights hence.
On the other hand, this discovery would not reach anguished ears for another month, and Sarah was left to daydream of her man's return. The few weeks they had spent together had been the most extraordinary of her life. The window frame supported her weight as she felt the emptiness in her heart fill with gladness at the though of his return.
Suicide was no longer an option. The anticipation of her beloved's return was too fragile an emotion to let go with the weak act of jumping. Waiting is difficult, at times almost impossible. But Sarah knew that the wait for a long promised reward was definitely worthwhile.
The wait was made easier by her own imaginary scenes, her dreams of the man's return. Each time she envisioned the spectacular moment, she would add details, remove uncertainties, and rearrange the image to her liking. Some day, the picture would be complete. However, in her heart Sarah knew the limits of her imagination. The scene would never be complete until she had experienced it in real time.
Sarah longed for those weeks. They were replayed in her memory just as often as her predictions of Varguennes's return. But what Sarah did not realise was that memory and the imagination are very similar devices. Whether she meant it or not, her memories were touched up, exaggerated, and at times even completely fabricated. Like her imagined future, they were vague, and far from existing as a real experience.
Nevertheless, Sarah thought that she loved the Frenchman. And it was through this emotion that she managed to survive the agonising nights. Her confidence in her love blocked out all doubt of the authenticity of her thoughts. He would return, it was certain.
Standing vigil at the window, Sarah did feel compelled to jump, if only for a few seconds. Thinking better of it, she realized life was too precious, and that the feelings of sadness she was experiencing would soon be gone, and forgotten, overshadowed by the years of happiness and fulfillment ahead.
It would have made Sarah content to possess the knowledge that she was not the only solitary figure that night. Far across the ocean, a ship was carrying a man in possession of a ring, gazing toward the horizon, where his love awaited him. However, no one would be able to predict the terrible tragedy that would befall that ship two nights hence.
On the other hand, this discovery would not reach anguished ears for another month, and Sarah was left to daydream of her man's return. The few weeks they had spent together had been the most extraordinary of her life. The window frame supported her weight as she felt the emptiness in her heart fill with gladness at the though of his return.
Suicide was no longer an option. The anticipation of her beloved's return was too fragile an emotion to let go with the weak act of jumping. Waiting is difficult, at times almost impossible. But Sarah knew that the wait for a long promised reward was definitely worthwhile.
The wait was made easier by her own imaginary scenes, her dreams of the man's return. Each time she envisioned the spectacular moment, she would add details, remove uncertainties, and rearrange the image to her liking. Some day, the picture would be complete. However, in her heart Sarah knew the limits of her imagination. The scene would never be complete until she had experienced it in real time.
Sarah longed for those weeks. They were replayed in her memory just as often as her predictions of Varguennes's return. But what Sarah did not realise was that memory and the imagination are very similar devices. Whether she meant it or not, her memories were touched up, exaggerated, and at times even completely fabricated. Like her imagined future, they were vague, and far from existing as a real experience.
Nevertheless, Sarah thought that she loved the Frenchman. And it was through this emotion that she managed to survive the agonising nights. Her confidence in her love blocked out all doubt of the authenticity of her thoughts. He would return, it was certain.