The Return

The wind toyed with her hair as they motored along, windows wide open to absorb as much of the warm fresh air as possible. The engine hummed happily, bubbling with its own excitement at the prospect of adventure on the open road. She lent forward and changed the radio station, searching for a song that would reflect their mood. After rumbling through static and broadcasts in French, she stopped, the song was by Snow Patrol, its gentle melody and lyrics bringing waves of nostalgia. Looking around her, she saw the smiles on the faces of those that she held dear, a calm, contented satisfaction mingled with an anticipation of adventure. The mood was perfect. Reaching over she touched his knee. He responded, placing his hand on hers and looked into her eyes with his lips forming a wide smile. His eyes saw deep into hers, and seemed to open her soul. At the same time, his own appeared to open, and for that moment of time they were intrinsically interlinked, mind, touch and spirit spiralling in a dance of desire, passion and love. Together they looked forward through the windshield at the long straight road ahead. In the distance, mountains sprung from the earth, tree covered, green and welcoming. Nature had called them from the city, and they were answering that call. A primeval yearning to belong to the elements, and entrust the ebb and flow of life to them. Earth to sleep on, the air their ceiling, water to wash and swim in, fire for warmth, security and to cook with. They had prepared for this time, organising the family and gathering the provisions for the days ahead. Now they were on their way, kilometres had been covered, villages passed by them and disappeared in the distance while new landscapes contantly shaped, formed and grew ahead of them. Views that stole breath, and impressed images of bliss upon the mind. The children sat quietly in the back, watching the world pass by outside the windows, transfixed by the visions. Music and mood, the sensory calm and gentle rhythm of the motor combining hypnotically. They were smiling. Without words they let the road pass them by, curiously looking at each inlet, each cluster of farms and houses, signs of life.

The flamingo hanging from the mirror swayed as if dancing when small potholes momentarily bumped the steady wheels. The sun blessing the occupants with steady warmth as they continued, miandering along into the high ground. The map had been discarded long ago, now they were heading northwards, to a destination that they had only seen in dreams, a name that they had mentioned in hushed reverant voices - their Eden. Each of them had seen the place in their sleep, they had touched the cool running water and felt the warm, smooth texture of the earth between their fingertips. They had explored every part of the lake, touched every tree and absorbed the beauty of every flower. With each passing moment, they knew they were getting closer, as if the vehicle was driving itself, bringing them home. They could feel the pulse of life, a pulse weak and barely present when they were in the steady rush of the city, but that had been growing stronger over the days, beating with a comfort that drew them onwards. Not far to go.

The traffic on the road diminished, and they were soon the only vehicle to be seen. The sun cast the box like shadow across the grey worn surface. The sound of the engines approach picked up by the keen ears of the animals hiding in the trees out of view. They picked up a scent, a sensation of change. Cautiously, some of them approached the road to get a glimpse of the travellers, to match instinct with sight. As the vehicle passed them by, the animals watched them with curiosity. After generations, after many lost years, the travellers had found their way, and were coming home once again.

The road texture changed as they slowed down, and turned off to the east. A thin winding gravel road interspersed with grasses and wild flowers, the track long overgrown, overtaken and hidden by nature from casual passers by. The mood inside the van became more focused, more alert. Eagerly they looked at their surroundings, recognising the trees, the shrubs, the way the wind whispered through the long grass outside the windows. Above the low rhythym of the engine, insects could be heard chattering and singing, pausing in their performance while the van passed them by. The van slowed as it neared the final bend of the long journey, turning and twisting downwards to then open into an expanse of space felt as though it was welcoming them with arms wide open. The trees parted, the grasses flowed, the sun shone through leaves and cascaded light into their eyes as they glimpsed their destination in front of them.

He brought the vehicle to a slow stop and then turned off the engine. For a moment none of the occupants moved, silently grateful to have arrived, to feel the warm sense of belonging, of returning to the place that until now had only been in their dreams. The light was abundant, bright and warm, casting the shadows of trunks and branches across the baked earth that awaited their footsteps. The creatures chorus rose to a crescendo, welcoming them after so long an absence. Water glistened from the pool and the trickle of the stream bubbled over smooth shiny stones. The earth greeted them with an embrace of spirit. One by one, the occupants opened the doors, still silent, but each with a warmth and bond to each other and their place. This was the earth that they would nourish as the earth would nourish them. This was where they belonged, this was home.

Coffee

Sheepishly he looked over and again she appeared to be looking right at him. Or perhaps looking through him. Again he had to avert his eyes. The look was too strong for him and he looked at his feet. He was unsure what the look meant, it was impossible to distinguish any emotion from it. Another quick look up. Yes, she was still looking. With each second he was becoming more self conscious. What was wrong? Was there something about his appearance, something about the way he was skulking in the corner. He wasn't sure. He looked over to her, but this time she was chatting with the person next to her. He felt a little better, or was it worse. Unable to determine the meaning of the look and now denied the possibility of more. He put it to one side, and allowed his focus to return to his book. He read a few lines but they did not absorb, his concentration drifting back to the look, to the eyes, to interpretations and possibilities. He closed the book in frustration. Now the curiosity burned. He looked over at her again, still chatting to her friend. He watched her flick her hair with a laugh and turn towards the friend, reaching out to touch her knee.

Was she interested in him, unlikely. He certainly wasn't what he considered to be an attractive person. So what was it then? He thought about going to the bathroom, to check his appearance and make sure there wasn't a stain, or smudge on his clothes, or breakfast crumbs in the corners of his mouth. Maybe his eyes looked bad, or his hair dishevelled. He couldn't stand though, it would make it obvious. Stay cool he thought to himself. Stay cool and approach her, talk to her. An internal struggle began. A fear to move, a fear to approach but a desire to know, a desire to have the opportunity to speak to her. He imagined that she looked over at him again, perhaps looking somewhere else. He rose to his feet, putting the book on the table, and went to the bar.

"Can I have another coffee please?" he asked
"Sure thing honey" replied the lady.

While he was waiting, he turned to look across at the table where she was sitting. This time there was no doubt, yes she was looking at him. Suddenly self conscious again he turned back to wait for his coffee. The lady put it down in front of him, and he took the hot mug with care and walked back to his table. His eyes concentrated on the cup to make sure he did not spill. Once back at the table, he sat down, and then took another look across the cafe. Her friend was leaving, putting on her scarf and coat. They hugged and then the friend walked between the tables, passing him and then on to the door. He heard the chimes on the door ring as the door was opened, and then again as it slowly closed. The cafe suddenly seemed to go silent, so silent that he could hear the thud of his heart inside his chest. He picked his book back up and opened it, not even remembering which page he was on he filed through the pages looking for something familiar. Anything to distract him from how awkward he felt. Page 98, half way down. He started reading again, slowly relaxing as he became involved with the imaginary world of the novel. His coffee started to cool and without looking up he felt for the mug and once grasping it, took it to his lips and gulped it down. He put the mug back on the table, and then looked over at the girl. She had a book in her hand, but was looking at him. The same eyes, messageless, without an indication of emotion. She was beautiful, natural and for some reason there was a ripple of warmth. He smiled, unconciously. A slight nod of her head towards him. A smile. The eyes seemed to sparkle with it and in a moment he was transfixed. Held by the light within them. The look between them passed and the humdrum echo of clientele returned to his ears. She returned to her book, he returned to his. He felt warm, felt noticed. An affirmation of existence in the mind of another.