The Journey

Out of all the things Steve remembered, the one that stood out the most, was a spring.

He laughed at himself as he thought back. Yes he’d been nervous. He’d never been more than five miles from home before. But, leaving had definitely been the best thing he had ever done.

There were no hurried goodbyes. No tears straining to be released. No awkward silences and back patting. He’d boarded without looking back.

He closed his eyes and pictured the journey as he’d done a thousand times. He’d shaken his head in amazement as city became suburbs, which in turn changed to rolling farmland. Never before had he seen so many green fields stretching as far as the eye could see. He’d pressed his nose to the glass and watched in awe. It all looked so green. As if God had too much green paint left over, and simply poured it over the landscape.

And the animals. Proper cows, looking bloated walking on stilts amongst grass so luscious he thought he could eat it himself. And sheep with lambs, running, jumping and playing without a care. Even now he shook his head at the pure wonder of it all.

The sky had stretched out in a way he’d never seen. Living at the bottom of high rise flats and crowded terraces the most he’d ever seen of the sky was dizzy contorted views. But here the sun was shining, cotton wool clouds scampering leaving a wonderful, blazing blue that injected contentment into his every vein.

And then the spring. His mind always returned to that. Right under his left bum cheek. Every bounce or turn, every movement along that wonderful journey was accompanied by a squeak. It made him laugh out loud as he thought back. Some had stared at him. But what could he do?

He lay down on his bed, closed his eyes, and started the journey again. Contentment flooded his being once more. He didn’t hear the bell ring. Nor did he care that the heavy doors locked him in, as they would for the next thirty five years.

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journey, spring and ttst54