Tell me Marie, do you hear it?

He shuffled along the sidewalk on a peaceful March afternoon, taking in the sights and sounds of his quiet, idyllic neighborhood. Alonzo Gates had lived here fifty years. He was the kind of old man everyone has seen at least once: sad, clouded-over brown eyes, a stooped frame and a garrulous nature. Alonzo paused for a second, tapping his cane expectantly as he saw his neighbor Greta approaching. His wrinkled old face broke into a sunny grin. 

"Hey there, Greta!" he hollered.

Greta, a harried mother of five, continued rushing down the walk, barely giving him a passing glance.

"Oh hey, Mr. Gates," she mumbled, then shouted, "Dammit Jimmy, get back here!"

Alonzo chuckled. "Heh, heh. Kids these days..." 

He trailed off as he noticed Greta running out of his earshot in hot pursuit of her youngest son. His face crumpled. 

The stately old oak trees that lined the verdant street had been saplings when he moved here with his wife, Marie. Oh, she was his soul mate. He was so proud of her, loved to tell his younger friends in the neighborhood all about her.

He couldn't remember a time when he did not know her. They were neighbors; they grew up together. They caught frogs together down at the creek-- Marie wasn't like the other girls in school, who wouldn't dare get their hands dirty. She trudged around in the mud more than he did. 

One day, when the two of them were laying on the banks of the creek, Alonzo turned to Marie.

"Marie, did you know the wind makes music?"

She looked at him and laughed, her brown eyes crinkling up at the corners. "That's silly."

"No, really. You have to be patient, like when you catch fish."

She was doubtful, but played along. They sat on the banks of the creek for hours, listening to the wind.

He never thought of her as more than a friend until he proposed to Shana Woodhouse. Shana was breathtakingly beautiful. Alonzo didn't know her too well, but he did know that she had the softest skin and gorgeous green eyes. When he told Marie, she slapped him.

"Go to hell, Alonzo!" she shrieked, tears running down her cheeks. 

He stood there, confused as to how his best friend could not be happy for him. 

Shana was not all she seemed to be, and Alonzo soon realized that the woman for him had been there all along. 

He proposed to Marie on a March afternoon much like this one. The sun was shining, starting to slant through the trees. Everything looked golden and rich. Incongruously, he had thought of that poem, "Nothing Gold Can Stay" or something like that. The wind was blowing softly through the trees, making a special type of music. "Tell me Marie, do you hear it?"

She looked down at him, in his best Sunday suit on bended knee. "Yes," she smiled, her eyes welling with love. "Yes, I do."

Alonzo Gates stood on the sidewalk now, listening to the wind. He was alone in this world. Marie could not give him children, but she had given him something even better: a lasting, eternal love. He missed her, but on afternoons like this one he knew she was right there.

He looked up at the rustling branches of the trees and grinned, tears rolling down his wizened cheeks. 

"Tell me Marie, do you hear it?"