The afternoon wind blows from the sea through and along the shoreline. The warm sun will soon dive slowly and silently into the ocean. Two men walk quietly and serenely side by side on the paved boardwalk by the long and curved beach line, protected from the sea by huge concrete blocks in funny shapes.
The briny scents of iodine and sea salt mixed with the almost sweet wooden fragrance of the “Kenzo” cologne are distinguished by the sensitive nostrils of the older man, bringing him memories of a past life, more than those of past times. He feels as if he was floating on a sea of dark waters before the saving hand of a beloved friend came to rescue and to bring him back into the gleaming light. The man looks at his friend and smiles tenderly, feeling his heart being embraced by the warm sensation of peace and gratitude - something he had not felt in a long time.
His comrade looks back at him and smiles, feeling an affection he had never felt before in his entire life. His hazel eyes are driven to the horizon, where the colours of the sky and the sea merge into one – the same beautiful blue shade of his partner’s eyes - feeling like their souls are entwined in an intricate tress of the destiny goddess. A strange overflowing sensation of mixed emotions runs up his spine, floods up his brain and bursts out from his eyes, leaving two traces of tears marking their way down his face. He inhales the soft saline air, holds it a bit in his lungs and then exhales it slowly, closing his eyes as if to capture that moment in his memory, enjoying the sensation of being then and there, with the one who is able to realize better than anyone else what he was feeling.
Not a sound is exchanged between the two of them. Words are not needed to express what it is going through their more than five senses, as they know how to read each other very well. The rescuer is saved by the affectionate hand of the saved one. Gratitude is turned into understanding when their eyes meet and gaze into each other for the eternity of a brief instant in time.
Somewhere near, the soft, clear and lightly hoarse female voice sings a known tune, loudly enough to blast the words into their ears, making them smile from the natural teasing of the soundtrack the Universe has chosen to award that moment with: “I set fire to the rain, watched it pour as I touched your face; well, it burned while I cried, 'cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name!”* (*Adele: Set Fire to the Rain)
The darker haired man winks to his partner, opens an irresistible and somewhat naughty grin and asks the other man:
“Shall we dance?”
The other man blushes, bends his head lightly downwards, avoiding the look in the eyes of his friend - a tick he was used to, when felt uncomfortable with some uneasy situation - but says, gently:
“Yah… Sure…”
***
A view to the sea in a calm and very clean water front brings the two men a sensation of welcome serenity. Two massive dark rocks emerge like islands from the middle of the ocean on the left, as if they were placed randomly but aesthetically in the landscape by the hands of gigantic statured men. The horizon is so far away one can hardly see the pale blue of the sky so far beyond. From where they are they can see a thin line of sallow and fine sand. They are standing on a higher level, on a large patio by the open veranda along the full front length of the house. The floor is a light yellowish polished slate. The blowing breeze is soft, warm and gentle, making the light white voile sheer curtains sway out of the large windowed door of the porch.
Moved by the beauty of the moment, the man with the darker hair then says:
“This is why I like this place so much! It is so close to my idea of paradise on Earth.”
They felt as if they were away from the outside world and protected from anything that could spoil the beauty and peaceful seclusion of the place.
A little ginger cat comes out of the front door and plays with the grey haired man’s toes. Its auburn fur is clean and shiny in the outer sundrenched air. Its playful and confident behaviour contrasts now with the frightened posture of some months before, when it was rescued from the street by the two men. The man throws a small bouncing sponge ball to the ground by the kitten, which runs to fetch the simple coloured toy with a mischievous and somewhat awkward leap. It could play for hours if given attention enough, until its tired tiny body would give in and make it have a rest for an hour or so out on the shiny and warm stony floor of the terrace. Not long afterwards, the undisturbed sleep of the tame little beast melts the hearts of the two men away with a welcome and well deserved peace.
Inside the cosy house there is a big living room stripped of any furniture, except for a few large comfortable cushions piled up on one corner. The floor is made of a light ivory coloured wooden layer, very clean, shiny and neat. A wide windowpane opens to the sea line in the distance. One man is sitting on the cushions on the floor watching the other while he comes into the room from the kitchen. The playing music changes to a loud and inviting beat, almost impossible to resist. The man starts dancing, hitting his bare feet hard on the floor, swinging his body with frantic movements and having fun at the same time. With a loud laugh while the other man stares at him, he says:
“In a moment someone will start complaining about the noise.”
The man sitting on the floor says:
“Someone has already complained. I saw the maid’s head coming out of the kitchen door with a frown... but who cares, anyway?”
They laugh loudly, light-heartedly and free of any guilty. The standing man then moves his hand to the other one’s direction and asks:
“Come... come dance with me“...
They hit the floor smiling and singing, while Rihanna goes on blaring her “We found love (in a hopeless place)”, changing the lyrics to “we found our love in a hopeful place”...
***
Books of many different types cover almost entirely one of the walls of the passageway between rooms. The other walls of the minimalist decorated house hung many framed sanguine and sepia drawings and sketches. A large watercolour and sanguine artwork, depicting a man kneeling and being protected by an angel with butterfly wings, covered the centre of the wall, opposite to the main entrance. Below the well known signature it was written in small red lettering: “Fallen Angel”. That was the blond man’s favourite.
The eyes of the darker haired man are filled with gratitude when he looks to the other man’s face and the way he smiles at him. Not so long before those private art studies were hidden in between piles of expensive watercolour and drawing sheets of paper on the shelves of the younger man’s old apartment. According to him, they were not good enough, contrary to the other man’s opinion that insisted on taking them out into the light and almost forced him to frame a group of selected favourite ones.
***
The car tires were turning almost noiseless on the old cobblestone streets that Saturday morning. The two men were silently listening to the music playing on the radio, each with their own thoughts, on the way to the beach house, absently minded.
Suddenly a reddish flash crossed the road in front of the car. The driver slammed the brakes mechanically. Fortunately they were in low speed, so that was just an instinctive response from the man in control of the wheels to avoid a disaster.
The two men looked at each other almost asking the obvious “WTF” question, but kept silent, still with frightened eyes. The younger man asked the other one to pull over immediately. He stepped out as soon as the vehicle halted on the side of the pavement.
A little ginger cat was trying to find a way in the narrow space between two buildings, completely terrified and trying to stay away from the reach of a few passersby, who did not really notice or paid any attention to the auburn furry ball. To the man’s hazel eyes it seemed weak and undernourished, but still looked healthy anyway, although in urgent need of some food and loving care. Looking carefully around, the man realized there were no other kittens nor even a protective female cat, so he assumed the poor animal was alone and probably lonely – but it was definitely a survivor.
The man came carefully closer to the small stray kitten, trying not to scare it any more than it was already. To his surprise, the poor animal did not run off from his approximation. He came even closer and waited. Soon he was close enough to touch the somewhat dirty ginger and white fur with fondness. The cat let itself be touched and caressed in an unexpected friendly way.
***
“Are you sure you want to take it with us?”
The cat was comfortably sitting on the man’s lap, licking its own hair with skilled energy, as if it was the most natural thing to do, in lieu of the condition it was some minutes before.
“I am absolutely sure. Look at him. He is home now. I already have a name for him. We will call him Ginger – the only name that would fit him properly.”
The other man smiled and not long afterwards stopped the car at a grocery store from where he came off some minutes later carrying a pack of cat food and other small necessities for the comfort and wellbeing of the newcomer. The kitten lifted his nose characteristically, as if enjoying the smell of the food and of what the near future was bringing him.
The car turned right then left again on the bridge over the highway to the beach.
Not far away, some minutes later, they parked behind a white beach house sitting proudly over a small hill, facing the open ocean. It was late in the morning that summer Saturday when the two men came back from the bathroom out to the sundrenched front porch, with the small kitten in hands, looking awfully thin, but bathed clean. It was still dripping water and slightly shaking in cold, but it surely smelt nicer than any time before in its life.
The warm blow of a hairdryer soon kept the cat duly dried out, while a hairbrush cautiously used, caressed the soft fur of the already spoilt animal. Ginger never complained of all that operation and even played with the almost hot air that made an unfamiliar blowing noise over its previously wet body, while heating it up at the same time. The cat food offered in a brand new shiny metal bowl was eagerly devoured by the newbie and not too long afterwards the fluffy rug by the door made a comfortable bed to the weary and tiny feline body.
Looking at the image of the sly animal sleeping cosily in the warm sunlight, the two men felt their hearts peacefully filled with fondness towards the little creature.
“I’m glad you brought him into our lives. Look how calmly and nicely he sleeps and think of the joy he already brings into our hearts. He is part of the family already. Come inside. Let’s organize some food to ourselves. I’m starving...”
***
The man was sitting on a deck chair in the veranda looking at the sea with his mind wandering free somewhere in time and space. A young ginger cat rested lazily and comfortably on his lap, almost asleep, being cuddled by the distracted and friendly hand of the dark haired man. Its somewhat loud purring could be heard by the man who, smiling to himself, found it overwhelmingly funny and relaxing.
In the distance another man was coming and carrying two medium sized fish recently captured and purchased from the fisherman on the other side of the bay. He opens a large grin on his bearded face when he sets his sight on the other man at the house terrace. He waves the two fish to the friend, who gets up and comes into his direction with a smile on his face. The cat immediately jumps down from the man’s grasp and follows him at a closer distance, probably anticipating the gift he is about to be given when lunch is ready.
***
“You opened a window which allowed light illuminate this soul of mine. You gave me reasons to shine through the misty darkness of unawareness. You are teaching me how to be one with the Universe and how to listen and welcome its messages in my heart. You feed me with a somewhat amazing and delightful knowledge I was searching for so long and although mesmerized by the amount of new and original information you gave me in such a short period of time, I am so happy to taste it, munch it and swallow it with untainted awe”.
The man was seriously looking straight into his friend’s cerulean eyes, who blushed lightly.
“I really mean it. Thank you”.
“Yah”...
That was the shy response of the blue eyed man, who looked down to his hands, as he usually did when felt discomforted by some situation created by the other man’s words.
The man’s hazel eyes were kept on his friend until he looked back into his stare. He was smiling – that bright open grin that made the other one feel so good and so at home - and then raised his glass, toasting cheerfully:
“To the Universe and how it brought our lives together and also for the good things we have achieved. To the future... Cheers...”
The dry red wine, served in large crystal glasses, tasted wonderfully good that night as did the specially prepared dinner, made exceptionally for that occasion – a celebration of one year of a pleasant life together.
Later on the same night, cuddling by the fire set in a fireplace, the hazel eyed man said:
“Do you know why we are good together?”
“Tell me”, said the other.
“Because you stimulate my brain and you teach me so much on how to get the answers to questions I have always had. I have been thinking about some of these questions lately. I just realized Life is nothing but a fragile – too fragile, yet wonderful - thing. We can avoid thinking about it, but cannot help but having to go on our trip through it. We make our choices and live according to them. It is a journey with no right time to end and no right place to stop. We meet many people and they play a role for some time, for as long as life allows them to stay. Some of them go away, but leave their memories deeply marked in our hearts for long. Some other creatures come into our lives and captivate us more than we expect. Some people hurt us. Some people mesmerize us. Some people love us and are not loved by us. Some people are loved by us and do not love us, however. But there will be people who will love us and who will be loved by us – and these are the ones that matter the most. The choice is ours, whether we want to give life a chance or not, but one thing is sure: no one else can make us happy, but ourselves. We are the masters of our destinies and the only ones responsible for our choices, whether they are good or not. We will be stupid sometimes, pathetic other times, wise and bright some other times. We will be used and abused to the length we let others to. We will use and abuse to the length we are allowed to. We will take pleasure and delight from things and people that will give us their best. Some passions will take the sleep away from our nights and love will bring warmth and peace into our hearts. So many things will be unfolded to our eyes; so many things will be hidden from clarity. So many doubts, so many insecurities and yet so many marvelous things are there to amuse us. So many songs will make us cry and so many others will make us laugh, inspire us or remind us of people we care for. So many “hellos” and so many “goodbyes" will make us think of mistakes we made and of things we did right. So much to think about and so many regrets for not thinking enough or clearly. Experiences… that’s what life is all about… and choices.
I choose living a good and healthy life. I choose the search for happiness and for loving care. I choose loving the ones who love me and feeling sorry - but being kind, at the same time - for the ones I won’t be able to love back. The Universe is open to my choices and I want all it can give to me. My life has been surprisingly healthy and fine, in spite of everything I have been through. Although I seek for sanity and stability, I welcome craziness and allow myself going off the tracks every now and then. I am ready to endeavor new things and if I make mistakes, I want to have the opportunity of learning something out from them. I will know I have tried to make them right and I can keep on trying over and over again.
I am a perfectionist and I recognize it. I want to have the things done the best way. Maybe I will never reach the perfection I am looking for or will never be happy with the results, but I will try to be better next time. I won’t give up before I feel I have to. My OCD side will never allow me doing differently and you know why.”
The blue eyed man just smiled and said:
“Yah…”
***
Years later, on a cold winter evening, sitting quietly and cosily by the fireplace, listening to music and drinking the same favourite dry and dense red wine, celebrating a lifelong time together, the man with playful hazel eyes asked the man whose blue eyes seemed somewhat distant looking into the flames that were burning nearby:
“Do you remember when we travelled to Scotland?”
“I certainly do, my dear friend. I certainly do”...
“I wonder how you knew about the dream I hid for so long from everyone”...
“You left the window to your soul opened to my spiritual eyes so I could sneak a curious look into it”...
They both laughed. The man knew his friend was being very serious about a thing he did not know in the beginning he could blindly believe in despite of the circumstances he had been shown by his older friend, until he was asked, one day, almost out of the blue:
“Have you ever been to Scotland? I just got a clear image of you next to a river, lots of greenery, rural setting... You were very serious or crying... sitting alone on a big dark rock, looking at the sea”...
“It is an old dream I once had... and it keeps on recurring every now and then... but I have never mentioned it to anyone, so far”...
***
The morning sun filled the large bedroom with a welcome light. A twofold open window, covering most of the outer wall allowed a slightly warm summer breeze blow inside the room. The freshly clean bed sheets, being thrown over the king size bed were gauzily light and white linen, decorated with delicate hand-painted red poppies on the folded-over rim. The younger man said: “We need to pack. Scotland awaits us for a very solemn and so long expected encounter with our past lives. It is time for reconciliation. My ghosts – and probably yours too - need a well deserved rest.”
***
When they were close to land in Aberdeen, the view from the small aircraft window made the hearts of the two men leap. The green hills and the dark rock cliffs by the seashore brought a feeling of nostalgia inflaming their souls. The sensation of coming home was, to some extent awkward, but quite comforting at the same time, from the moment they set foot on Scottish ground.
The older man drove all the way throughout the city and to the field by the village close to a somewhat familiar hill facing the sea. A stream of clean running water winding down through the green field around the motorway crossed their path several times. They knew somewhat by heart they were going in the right direction.
Not far away from the main village, an old grey stone building stood close to a bend of the road. The house front wall was almost hidden by a thick rosebush still blossoming, in spite of the summer heat. The two men looked at each other without saying anything - a common sensed connection between the two of them – the language hidden behind their eyesight. They stopped the car. The sound of the stream running freely and freshly not far from the back of the house was clear and rather relaxing.
A lightly chubby and short ginger haired woman in her mid-forties with rosy cheeks came out of the door and greeted the men. Her blue eyes were friendly and her smile welcoming. The front of her simple white and red plaid dress was covered with a white apron brimmed with a delicate and flowery needle lace in shades of light pink, forming a rather harmonious outfit. She was probably working in the kitchen for some time when the men arrived. They felt as if they were just getting home.
“Welcome to the Rosebud Guest House, gentlemen”. Her voice was calm and pleasantly low pitched. “I learned you are staying for a couple of days. You can park the car on the backyard, if you don’t mind.”
***
The bedroom door at the end of the small corridor was somewhat familiar to the younger man. His friend was still at his side, knowing he was uneasily anxious to enter that room. The door knob was strangely cold when he touched it.
“I have to let you go in this venture alone, my friend”, said the older man with a fairly serious smile.
“This is your quest and yours alone. Be brave, as you always taught me to...”
He touched his friend’s shoulder, turned around and quietly left him alone. Still holding the cold door handle, the dark haired man took a deep breath, lifted his head and encouraged himself into a voyage to an unknown and unfamiliar past and to a battle against his own ancestor ghosts. He entered the fairly lightened quarters and closed the door behind his back.
He felt as if he was being introduced to a past history that came too quickly against his discomforted being. His knees quivered a bit when he came closer to the bedside and sat in the chair by the neatly arranged bed. His eyes were drawn to the not so distant green hill outside the open window while the smell of fresh lavender filled the space surrounding his body.
***
Sitting on the “maol” [1] and facing the sea, the hazel eyed man stared at the outlying horizon. His eyes were lost in the distance and the burden in his heart was lighter, although a funny feeling embraced his soul for a moment. His eyes watered as if he was missing part of his soul, lost somewhere in time and space, where a window had just opened up. The man stayed in the same place, looking ahead with his mind wandering freely for hours.
The fresh wind blowing over the green field covered with wild red poppies and bushes of lavender scattered all around, comforted him as if a very heavy weight was slowly being taken off his shoulder. He closed his eyes and a vision, as clear and solid as the dark rocks of the cliffs ahead, came immediately to his mind.
***
A young boy with fair ginger hair was lying in a heavy wooden home bed, sadly looking out through the window glass. His back was supported by a couple of big and comfortable geese feather filled cushions, placed strategically on the bed head, so he could have a sight of the stream running down the hill close by. The vision and the sound of water used to calm him down and somehow soothe his pain away. His big deep green eyes decorating his pale and freckled skin, used to stare at the running waters for hours, wishing he was finally free from the discomfort he was long suffering due to the serious illness he was dying of. It was just a matter of time until leukaemia corroded completely the blood cells of his already too weak body forever.
His older brother was sitting on the bedside, holding the boy’s incredibly pallid hand in his and portraying a somewhat studied smile which had the intention of trying to hide all the sorrow he was feeling that moment. His brother’s illness was like the heaviest burden he could carry on his broad shoulders. His fraternal attention to the boy was, however, for sheer and pure love. An unrestricted devotion the lad deeply appreciated, knowing he was staying with his brother not for such a long time anymore. He could read the misery in his brother´s eyes and could not avoid feeling sorry himself for the situation he had no control whatsoever.
At that point in time, words did not need to be exchanged, as there was a deep and mutual understanding between them. The small glass vase on the bedside table was filled with recently picked red poppies and lavender blossoms, the boy’s favourite flowers. They kinda brought a scent of freshness and clean air to the small bedroom.
The sick youngster looked into his brother´s eyes in silence - an agonizing and heavy silence - and felt a torrent of warm tears run down his cheeks... The older brother then lay carefully on the bed by the young lad's weak body, passing the arm around his brother’s neck and bringing his ginger head to rest on his chest. He was trying very hard to hide his own fear away from his protégé, although he knew that was almost impossible. The boy took a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes, crossing his frail and thin arm peacefully over the other´s comforting body.
Uncontrolled and soundless tears abounded the young man’s hazel eyes. Holding the weak and fragile young boy in his warm embrace was like holding the delicate body of an angel whose wings were deadly broken and did not allow him to fly anymore. To the juvenile lad, however, being held like that by his older brother, feeling unconditionally loved and protected, was like having his wounded angel wings finally healed and ready to let him fly free again... high and away.
He surrendered his weary spirit to the moment. A peaceful feeling invaded his scrawny but young body and soul when he closed his deep green eyes, with a relieved smile on his face. He never opened them back again...
***
A flash in the man’s past life veiled memory brought him sometime ahead of the previous scene. The bed was empty and the sheets had a fresh and clean scent of wild lavender. A pair of big cushions was placed over the neat linen. The man looked to the outside through the window glass with a sad emptiness crushing his sore chest. His soul flooded up with painful feelings of melancholy and nostalgia. His eyes wandered around the room for some minutes. The small transparent vase on the bedside was empty this time, as it was his aching heart and soul. The man took a very deep breath and let his distressed tears run down his face. Those tears were yearning too long for finally flowing freely from his sad and tired eyes.
Moments later, he turned around and left the room, closing the door behind his back for more than just a lifetime.
***
A solitary sea-mew flying high above the man’s head seemed almost stuck in the air, moving very lightly, using the instinctive knowledge of the lessons learned from the evolution of times and species. The man’s eyes were attracted by the scene, while his mind wandered back to the present. The wind blowing through the bird’s broad open wings kept its body almost effortless and steadily afloat. It seemed to be enjoying the skilled flight with its head pointing the sea ahead and its strong body hung from the sky by invisible strings.
As if driven by an inaudible warning sign, the apparently forlorn seagull opened his yellowish beak and emitted a loud cry, bending his head and moving his wings, diving through the air into the icy blue ocean.
Seconds later, the sight of the bird coming out from the cold waters woke the man up, as if bringing him back from a long lasting dream. His eyes lightened up a bit as if the shadow covering his spirit for too long was suddenly removed.
The man turned around on his heels and climbed the hilltop, taking a left path and going down to the other side, in the direction of the stone house at the foot of the mountain. A man with grey reddish hair was waiting by the river with anxious blue eyes fixed on the figure coming down the green field into his direction. He could feel somehow, by the way the man walked, that his friend’s soul was absolutely and completely washed down by long kept painful tears. His ghosts were definitely resting in paradise. His heart was finally in peace.
***
The warm and sunny afternoon gives place to orange lines painting the blue shaded sky like a bright and rather light watercolour announcing a starry night to come. The waves coming and going to the beach sand with their repeating uncontrolled movement bring a welcome feeling of peace to the two men walking slowly and barefoot at the shoreline.
Ahead in the distance a fisherman pulls a small net with a few small silver fish still oddly jumping in a useless effort inside the mesh they are imprisoned. The fresh breeze blows against their mature faces and a sensation of completeness fill their souls.
They walk quietly, side by side, bumping each other’s bodies every now and then, almost casually. They feel no need for words when they walk together by the beach every day in the late afternoon.
From not so distant where they are the sound of a known old song comes and fills their ears with nostalgia and a kind of welcome joy. The hazel eyed man smiles and looks at his partner in life and asks:
“Shall we dance?”
The blue eyed man smiles back at his friend and says in his funny way of tease:
“Yah...”
They danced to the sound of music... like friends do... with no worries or bigotry...
The well known words went on and on... “I set fire to the rain, watched it pour as I touched your face; well, it burned while I cried, 'cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name!”* (*Adele: Set Fire to the Rain)
From the veranda of the beach house, an adult male ginger cat observes serenely the two men dancing at the beach and paw fluffs his comfortable cushion, where he lies restfully almost immediately after. The soft and relaxing purring of the feline is not heard by anyone but itself, while the night falls silently on that side of the planet, painting the dark blue sky with small bright spots of silvery light...
[1] Mull; hilltop
