The House and the Lake (Prelude)

"If there was anything i could do..."
"There is nothing you could do..."
"Maybe not now, but, who knows, maybe in the future..."

We had a fight like this once in a while.
It was just too hard for us both to accept that she wouldnt be around in a
short amount of time.
We were aware of the fact that everybody dies, nobody is free from their duty
towards the grave. But her case was different.
If someone died in their sleep from a heart attack, it was a shock for
everybody, but it couldnt be helped.
But if someone was slowly being eaten away by a sickness with no possible
cure, then the situation changed.
We tried our best to live every single day as if it would be her last and as if
she would live forever, but sometimes we got blown away by reality,
impossing itself on us, forcing us to look to its way. There wasnt too much
time left.
She didnt play the violin anymore.

"Why waste time on that?"
"Because art has never and will never be a waste of time"

Sometimes i convinced her with that simple statement. She would get up
from the bed and get the old, yet beautiful and heavenly sounding Stradivarius
violin out of its case. She would play enthralling music, making me loose
myself in its wake, completely possesed by the magic of each note.
Slowly dripping on me, the melody made its way from the violin to infinity.
That sound would always be there, no matter if she would not play anymore,
no matter if she were to fade away. The memory remained and thus she
would live on with me, no matter what, no matter when.
While i listened to her i gazed at the old willow that poured its branches into
the lake.
A lake full of life.
And our house would remain as full of life as the lake as far as we would
make it toghether.
And time played no role no more.
We had to life each day through. Nothing mattered more than her, her well
being, her everything...

Unbroken silence would hang in the air after she finished playing.
She would then put the violin back in its case, sadness stricken picture
painted on her face, a lonely tear rolling down her cheek.
It had become a habit for me to collect that tear and put it in a jar with the
rest of her sisters, so they would stay toghether and keep company.
I would do the same for her as long as i could.
Laying on the bed, her breath steady for maybe not too long, her head on my
chest. I would stare at the ceiling watching time pass by, not giving us a
spare minute to enjoy toghether...

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