Realisation - A short story.

That we had been drifting for some hours in the pre-dawn darkness seemed quaintly surreal. I wonder that I was not concerned, as she was, but to me the peace was circumambient, evident in the tropical warmth, the sweet perfume of Frangipani, the gentle lapping of the water against our hull as the listless current slowly ushered us along.

Losing our oars was of little moment to me, but not to her of course. To her it was frightening, at first, then dangerous, then, after a time, simply inconvenient. To me it was pleasantly revitalising and though confined to our tiny craft I felt nevertheless unshackled. She wanted to argue, lay blame for our predicament, search for solutions; I wanted to gaze alternately at the golden crescent moon overhead and its reflection upon the wide, smooth surface of the water below. We did.

I remember snippets of her discursive tirade touching on the ugliness of the river, the stench of brine, the pathetic nature of the factory town on the coast where we now lived, but I don’t remember when that occurred exactly. I do remember that it was otherwise tranquil, that no breeze moved us, that we floated freely amongst the stars – above and below.

I knew she would come around, she always has. Her ways are different to mine that’s all and I’ve learnt over the years to let them play out because she is my constant companion, my anchor, my single true love. And we have an unspoken pact validated by a lifetime of togetherness – that when one of us holds out a hand, the other will always take it, no matter what lies between.

At some point however, I must have stopped listening all together, for she fell silent and as the first hint of light coloured the horizon in pastels we drifted properly into our little town and she moved to my side, laying her head in my lap with a sigh. We had dispensed with excuses and apologies and explanations, she and I, some distant decade ago in our sixty year marriage, so I held her and brushed her long grey hair with my fingers; and together we watched the morning rise gloriously over the ocean to greet us.

When you get to my age, I think, you begin to realise that no matter how fast you run or what you achieve, the most precious thing you have is the moment.

• Favorite
• Report Concern
• Share This
  • Facebook
  • Twitter

Add your comment

You need to login or signup to add your comment to this work.

Tags:

age, brett, current, dawn, foster, life, love, moment, morning, motto, photobloke, realisation, river, short, story, thoughts and town