'The rich tapestry' - a short story

I don’t know what it was that finally tempted me to drive down that deserted old road late that night...

But I did…

given that I had known it so well ...so long ago.

It was pitch black once off the main drag and onto the well-travelled but still unsealed road. The twisting ingress made its way eastward descending toward the shoreline.

Looking upward, the treetops shone an iridescent glow from the lighthouse beyond; in contrast with the gloomy roadside below. The headlights creating a halo effect as I drove into a weird cocoon of my distant past.

It hadn’t changed much was my first thought; leastwise as best one could tell within the shroud of this early September night. I slowly made my way toward the centrepiece, the jetty. The heritage village nearby, not surprisingly, still enchanted me ...I’d unknowingly missed it.

Opening the side window, I was at once struck by the salty tang of the sea air. Awakening my senses to a touch of early springtime; lost on me, until that moment. Suddenly, my mind was awash with thoughts of what my life had been in this place, all those years ago.

And yet thinking how much had happened since ...sure, a life well lived. They use the term ‘returning stranger’; it was a little like that I pondered. Meantime, my eyes drifted on cue into the warm ribbon of moonlight snaking its way out across the darkened bay. Dreamy days spent on boats came gently to mind.

Time stood still as I allowed outlines, shapes and shadows to pervade my hungry thoughts. An easy target, under fire, from this wall of mounting nostalgia. Little sound to be heard as it was nearly midnight by then; save the boats creaking at their moorings or the tide rippling in so steady ...so easy. The village now well asleep.

In truth, to my mind, no real change had occurred at all. I was indeed a little surprised to find since those long gone seasons I’d spent as a guest of my aged aunt during the years of my studies. Still too far out for city-folk these days to consider ...I would guess, leaving the fishermen and born-in locals the lucky beneficiaries of this secret village and its closeted waterfront.

As I reared the car around, I was struck by the realisation that, but for one or two decisions here and there, my life could have meandered down a totally different path ...’sliding doors’ as they say. These freed notions then casually wondered predictably whether her parents may still live out on the point. The home had indeed only been a little further around the cove from this spot. Nonsense, I mused, too many years gone by now. I went onward regardless with my last pass of the bay side circuit.

There it was, the home, although subdued by the shadows of evening, still in a liveable condition and to my surprise a single light on. I stopped across the way for more than a few moments, paused to wonder ...again ...then I vacantly returned the way I’d come in. It was far too late after all. Time to go.

I'd spoken not a word to a soul that night as I recall. In fact, I didn’t see a person either, save a pair of startled lovers whose heads bobbed up in tandem from their roadside hide as I passed by the old boathouse. Surprised no doubt by this unusual intrusion into their own private world.

All in all, an unexpected experience for me. Yet, an intent I’d subconsciously urged myself to fulfil several times over the years when I’d travelled ‘up north’ on business. My aunt (bless her heart) has long since passed on after all. But look forward another half hour, a booked hotel bed and a pleasant work day 'up north' in the morning. Back to what I know only too well. My life ...as it is.

A few surreal minutes it had been though; from a life that rarely alters from ‘the predictable’ to say the least. A welcome reflection, it must be said: on people, a special place and what now seemed just a brief window in time ...a gateway to the past and a memory of something that was really good. Yes, special, in a way unrelated to life as I’d found it beyond those days of what now seemed more part of my childhood than beyond. And yet…? Like that old road, life has its twists and turns. But in many ways, nothing really changes too much.

Strangely enough, I’ve not gone back since. Too busy getting on with things ...or so I delude myself. The memories of those times, just the same, do quietly endure somewhere in a peaceful corner of my mind as I travel on. ‘All part of the rich tapestry’ …or so they say.

Grahame J Flynn Views in Verse (https://grahamejflynn.blogspot.com)