Envision. Three years from now you are at a french restaurant discussing your upcoming wedding. Three years ago she told you she loved you and you almost said it back. Right here, three tables to the left. She drank Rioja and put a brave face. You can still see tears in her eyes, even though they never graced her glowing cheeks. You wonder, just for a second, if she has said the same to someone else.
Envision. Five years from now you are sitting at a board meeting in a glass skyscraper, on a 67th floor. You have achieved all that you wanted. Almost. You are married now. Five years ago you convinced yourself this was the right thing to do. You briefly remember her blonde locks splayed across the pillow. You still feel the shattered remnants of her dreams cutting your soul after she walked away. You wonder if she still longs for what you both had when she lays in the bed at night. You wonder if she still curls her hair and paints her nails red.
Envision. Ten years from now, you are sitting in a big house in a country, private driveway, pool, and a stack of divorce papers on an expensive coffee table. Ten years ago you swore you would be living in a heart of a big city with family by your side. But something happened and you watched as those plans disintegrated like a sandcastle on a stormy beach. You watch leaf fluttering in a wind and you wonder if she is on the other side of the planet has achieved all that she dreamt of. You smile because you know she probably would have. She was tenacious.
Envision. Fifteen years from now you find your first grey hair. You screw your eyes and pluck it out. You seem to have reached that middle-age crisis; convertible is sitting in your massive four-car garage. Your life is pretty steady now, you seem to have figured things out. You have finally accepted who you are. Your twenty-something girlfriend thinks so. "I am getting old" you rumble under your nose and suddenly wonder if she is getting old too. You wonder if any of her kids have inherited her captivating blue eyes; you used to love getting lost in them.
Envision. Forty years from now, your face is graced by victorious wrinkles, each telling a different story of your life. Your hair is grey and memories seem to dart in and out your head like bees in a meadow. Most days you cannot remember what you had for dinner, and some days you find it difficult to climb the stairs. Your chest sometimes hurts when you breathe, and when you have to sit down you remember her. You think how true it is that you do not forget the people you loved when you were young. You may not remember yesterdays weather but you remember the forty-year-old summer, her love letters, and that cute bunny she owned. "I wonder if she is happy," you say "I hope she got all the love and happiness she has deserved."