Days turned into months and months into years since I've last visited a place, where the journey of quiet and simplicity existed. We were country folks, but did not see it as such. The wiser ones in our village said, "better to live a day at a time, and not bother, because our choices were few."
Our home sat on a corner lot surrounded by the sweet scent of chamomile flowers and roses. In the still of nights you can hear the washing sounds of the Atlantic ocean against the concrete wall that protected our village. By day, there was always the smell of food, laughter or someone saying "Hello" to another.
I can still see Agee (Grandma) sitting in her rocking chair, rocking to and fro while smoking her cigarettes. Behind her lay the fireside filled with warm coals, and upon it sat a pot of simmering curry or stew. There was always a tin container of scalded milk waiting to be served to whoever may drop by. There also came an invitation to share a simple meal, or enjoy a banquet of plain laughter. The journey of the village life went by.
Now this future journey, is my destiny or luck. I know that I exist, in this different life. It's not perfect, but it comes surrounded by the entertainments and the rushes of city life. The future needs takes first place. Sights and sounds of this new life become daunting. The reality of beauty fades away. The concrete talks that freezes the conversations and pollutes the inner being can drive ones life into paralyzes.
That's when I close my eyes. That old rocking chair; that certain smell; the sound of crashing waves which soothed me, as I go forward into a journey from the past.
© 2003 by Ann Diamond. All rights reserved.