“You’ll be back” he said, as they walked around the Cathedral.
Old church buildings always made her want to sing, to raise the smallest note and listen as it grew wings and soared up to the rafters. She could never quite get up the guts to do it.
“Can you imagine this place filled with a whole bunch of people singing worship to God? How amazing would that be?!” Constant chatter an outpouring of a hyper-active sense of imagination and well-placed zeal. He was a dreamer, a visionary, an artist…
And he had been right. She was back.
This time, though, as she walked towards the front he stayed behind, filling another’s memory, dreaming other dreams – he had undoubtably forgotten those words, possibly completely oblivious to their accuracy. Yet here she was again with unbidden tears pouring significance into the echoes of before.
“You’ll be back,” he said.
And she was.