by Robert Alan Silverstein
His name was Bob. It doesn't matter what his story had been before that moment. Bob was just a man like every other man who'd walked the earth for the past five thousand years. He was born. He dreamed. He had tasted victory and disappointment. And he would die when it was his time.
It doesn't matter where Bob had come from or what had brought him there. All that matters is that he finally found that place that sheltered spot he'd seen in fleeting visions that drifted through his daydreams as he passed from childhood through adolescence. That dream of Peacetopia, a perfect place where everyone lived in peace and harmony. That vision which still haunted him so many years later, as clear and yet as distant as ever.
There was a gentle breeze that whispered promise and hope as it drifted through the shade of the giant willow tree, and the flower garden and the foot bridge that crossed the babbling brook.
He approached the screened-in porch and the green, green breath of life was gentle on his cheek as she sat there waiting with a tall glass of refreshment to wash away the world's cares.
As he grew closer his heart was pounding, and she looked up, smiling from beneath her hat, and all at once he knew her although he had never seen her before.
Bob stepped up to the screen door and opened it and stepped inside. She whispered an eternal sigh of joy, "Welcome," and she took his hand, and her gentle fingers wrapped around his and reassured him that the dream was real. "May peace prevail on earth," his heart whispered its deepest felt longing, knowing that somehow at last his wish had come true.
© 1994 Robert Alan Silverstein