Strawberry Fields Forever

                                    

                                          
"Hi, Welcome to the Flower Store on Madison. How can I help you today?" a lady behind the counter at the florists asks me. 
"I need a dozen white daisies, please", I say with a polite smile, still looking around the small flower shop. Jonathan stands next to me, looking down at me. "Will you stop staring at me", I whisper to him out of the corner of my mouth.
"I can't help that I find it fascinating when you look around in excitement. You're beautiful. I can't stop staring". I blush at his words.
The lady walks into a back room, and comes out a moment later with a dozen daisies wrapped in baby blue colored tissue paper. "Here you go", she says handing them to me, while I hand her my credit card. "Are you going over to Strawberry fields?" she asks suddenly. 
"Yes, I am", I say.
She hands me back my credit card. "Daisies were John Lennon's favorite flowers, which I'm guessing you already knew. I don't usually sell daisies unless a wannabe flower child comes in and buys a dozen. I was a flower child myself back in the late sixties, and early seventies".
"I'm dragging him with me to see it. It's been my dream to see it since I was a little girl. I don't really want to be a flower child necessarily, but it might have been fun", I laugh. She gives a small chuckle. "Thank you, these flowers are perfect".
We walk out of the small flower shop and to the outskirts of Central Park. I lead Jonathan and I down the street, to the Dakota. "This is where he died, in nineteen-eighty, December eighth", I tell Jonathan, standing on the street corner across from the infamous apartment building. I stare at the front entrance, where John last stood. "He was shot, right there, by an estranged fan, on his way back from dinner. He had left dinner early to see his son, Sean, in his apartment, whom he had missed dearly during the day. Instead, he was shot, dead before they could even get him to the hospital to save him. I've never liked his second wife, Yoko, but I couldn't even start to think what it would be like for my husband to be shot right in front of me, and for me not to be able to help him". 
"It must have been extremely hard. But not only for her, or the son, but for the entire music community. As much as I don't listen to music like that, I know what a legend he was, and still is, for people like you. Neither of us were born when he was still alive, and we feel something for him, right?"
"Wow", I say, impressed. "I didn't know you could get that deep into music and legends", I joke. 
"Do you want to do a video here?" Jonathan asks, changing the subject. 
"How about on that corner, so we can get both the Dakota, and the fields".
We cross the street and stand at the edge of the Strawberry Fields shrine for John Lennon. I once again take out the camera from my purse and hold the camera in front of Jonathan and I. I put a smile on my face and hit record. "Hey Hawks fans. CJ Quenneville here, just for this clip. Jonathan and I, as you know, are in NYC. I convinced Jonathan to take me out to Strawberry Fields. I'm standing here at the end of West seventy second street. Behind me, we're about to go into the shrine for Mr. John Winston Ono Lennon, who died across the street in nineteen eighty. As much as Jonathan isn't very excited to be here, I wanted to share it with the others of you who have either wanted to see it, or have been here before. I have a dozen daisies to put down on the Imagine stone for John. We'll make another short video soon. Bye Blackhawks nation. Love you all".
I end the video, shove the camera into my purse, and turn around in excitement. I take in the sight. No one stands near the large plated rock in the cement. I walk over to it, and place the twelve daisies symmetrically around the inner circle. The petals of the flowers point to the word Imagine in the middle. I stand back and take a picture of the stone. 
"Do you want me to take your picture in the circle?" Jonathan asks from beside me. 
"Yeah", I smile happily. Giving Jonathan my purse and he takes out my phone to take the picture. 
I pick up the back flower above the word and kneel down where it was, hold the flower to my nose, close my eyes, and smile. I wait for Jonathan to take the pictures and for him to tell me that he's done. I thank him for taking the photo, then we continue on through the park. I look through the two or three of the same photo Jonathan had taken of me. I choose the second one, then lighten it up in edit mode. "It looks perfect", Jonathan tells me as I finish editing the photo.
"You know what's perfect?"
"What?" Jonathan questions, looking down at me. 
"You. And me. Together. Walking through Central Park on an extremely nice summer day, without any other distractions to keep us away. It's just us, the fading sounds of the city around us, and the nature right here. It's perfect. It's the definition of perfect".
"My definition of perfect is you. Just you. Nothing else".
"Do you know that you're really corny?", I giggle. 
"Hey", Jonathan chuckles. "You said the same thing, I just made mine a little bit more specific".
"Jonathan, do you think, or believe, that souls are actually made for each other. That one soul had been split into two, and placed to find each other at some point in life".
"I don't think it's the souls, specifically, but one person is made to be with one other, whether or not you find that person the first time around or not. It can't be something that happens just like that, but the people find that they're made for each other over time that they spend together". 
"Do you think that those people are us? That we're two people made for each other".
"Only if we both believe that we are".