A Vivid Imagination

I’ve always had an incredible imagination. I don’t mean just thinking about something but coming up, in my mind’s eye, with entire scenarios that are as real to me as the sun surely comes up over the horizon each day.

As an adult, this imagination of mine has caused me needless worry and stress at times, but it doesn’t seem to be something I can turn off and on, so I live with it. Here’s a prime example. I was married with my two young daughters and living in Durham, North Carolina with my husband, Bill so this took place around 1965 or so.

Bill was working at a large hospital, maintaining its radiology equipment. If there was a breakdown, he worked until everything was up and running again, sometimes late into the night. On this particular winter evening, Bill had called to tell me that he’d be late because of an emergency; don’t wait up and put his dinner in the oven, please.

The girls and I had dinner, we played some and then I got them a bath and ready for bed, then came a bedtime story as usual. So I was pretty busy until 8 pm and wasn’t too concerned that Bill wasn’t home already. I tried reading for a while, but my mind kept wandering. I tried watching some TV but nothing held my interest for more than a few minutes.

It had been raining most of the afternoon, which turned to snow around twilight. It had been coming down pretty good since then, so now there was a couple of inches on the ground. As I looked out the window for the hundredth time, I could see ice on the bare tree branches.

The TV became just noise, so I turned it off and went back to my book, curled up on the sofa with my cat, Bluebell beside me. The house was many decades old, so it had natural creaks and groans, as did the old oil fueled furnace as it turned off and on. This was when my imagination started feeding itself relentlessly.

What if, I thought to myself, Bill has had a wreck. I could so clearly see him lying behind the car wheel, bent from impacting a tree on the side of the road head on. I could picture Bill crushed and unable to get out of the car, no cell phones to call me or anyone for help.

As I imagined his multiple injuries and knew the route he would be taking, I knew also the mostly residential road would be deserted. The people of Durham usually hunkered down when there was ice and snow, so I knew no one would be along to help him get to a hospital.

I thought of what I would do; how I would tell the girls that their father wouldn’t be coming home that night or any other night. I knew I would move back to Georgia, to be close to my family and friends, so I imagined exactly how I would manage this on my own, and get Bill’s lifeless body back for burial in the family plot.

Then I began wondering if the life insurance would be enough to help us get a decent start on our new life. Would I be able to find a good paying job right away? I had no idea, but this made me start thinking of all my contacts in Savannah, and that I would need to update my resume.

Every now and then, I’d get up for the sofa and stand at the window, smoking a cigarette and watching the ice and snow pile up. I must have drunk 3 glasses of wine that night, which might have fed my already active imagination.

All I truly know is that when I saw the lights of a car turning into our driveway, I knew it was Bill. Home at last, safe and sound. He barely got into the front door before I was wrapped all around him, scolding him for not having called before he left the hospital, and telling him how glad I was to see him home safe.

I never told Bill about this scenario, or any of the others that followed throughout our married life. But at least on this particular winter night, I knew I could put my imagination away for another time and let it rest.

Jane