“Why Not?”

“Why Not?”

“Why not?”  Her head tipped to one side, she looked out at her garden. It was really only a garden in her imagination. Just a plot of earth behind their house, a big boulder in one corner. Empty nesters, she and Peter had planned to make a secret garden. Complete with a white gazebo with curtains that could be pulled down as the sun came around. Ferns and wisteria in all shades of mauve, a pool for the silent boulder. She smiled. It made her happy each time it rained to see it shining and wet. Just like it would be if……….  All their plans had been set aside. Drawings and dreams filed away. 

Constance worked and came home. Their children away in different cities. Their own lives, with their own dreams. A journalist, Peter was away; they didn’t know for how long. He was stationed half way across the world in a war zone. They talked most nights on a video chat when the internet connections were good. 

Coming from work, she’d been listening to a gardening program on the radio. She could at least have that much. Easing the car into the small garage, she deftly avoided the supplies they had started to amass. Turning the engine off she sat looking wistfully at them all. “What’s the matter with me?!” With the back of her hand she pushed wetness from her eyes. Struggling to get out of the car, she squeezed sideways, knocking precariously balanced tools to the floor, catching the trowel that was destined for the hood of the car with her one free hand. Holding her briefcase to her, she edged along the car to the door of the garage. “I’ll need clean clothes for work next week. Thank goodness it’s Friday.” 

Every night she stopped by the boulder, patted it and went into the silent house. Tonight felt different. The house was still silent, no supper on the table. There never was. Briefcase on the kitchen counter, she made a cup of coffee and just stood, thinking. “I wonder.” The kitchen computer blinked on. “Connie? Are you home yet? Connie? If you’re there, I’ve only got five minutes tonight.” Her face lit up. Glad to hear his voice, she was suddenly excited. “Five minutes? Is that all? I’ve got so much to talk with you about. It’s the garden, Peter.” He was happy to hear her excitement. He hoped she couldn’t hear the air raid sirens. “I’m in a bunker, Connie so it’s private. Tell me what’s got you all excited.” Words spilled out of her about digging the dirt, lining the pool, getting water plants, finding workmen to do what she couldn’t do, researching you-tube sites, setting stones for a path from the house, finding fish for their pond, sourcing materials. “Connie. Connie. Stop. Our five minutes are almost up. I wish I could be home to help!” She felt sick. Here she was talking all about her brilliant ideas, and her precious husband was in danger every day. She had heard the air raid sirens. “Peter, I’m sorry. I didn’t let you get a word in edgewise.” She touched his face on the cold screen. He looked so tired. “Well, sweetness, I have only one thing to add.” Smiling through his exhaustion he said: “Why not?” 

“You see things; and you say ‘Why?’ But I dream 

things that never were; and I say ‘Why not?’”

~ George Bernard Shaw