My husband is asleep beside me. His light breathing has changed to gentle snores. Other than that it is so quiet in the house that I can hear the cheap plastic kitchen clock ticking away. Outside this late in the year it is too cold for the loons and their mournful calls. The frogs sleep in their frigid deathlike slumbers and the insects have all gone to ground. Even the wind is quiescent. It is as if I am the only living creature still awake in the huge, quiet darkness.
I move a leg and hear the whisper of my skin against the cotton sheets. Even though the house has cooled I am snug within the warm cocoon of my bed. I push bangs grown too long off my face, a reminder that I need a haircut. I smile when my husband David makes that “Nggh, nggh, yow” sound. He turns and his snores are abruptly cut off.
Life can be interesting, I think, as I listen to the tick-tocking clock. Where would I be today if somewhere along the way I had changed even one decision of my life?
***
It is 2:00 PM, in Mr. White’s history class, and we are watching a slide show of his last trip to Europe. In one slide the smooth, white marble columns of the Parthenon seem to glow in the late afternoon sun. In the next, the blue waters of the Mediterranean wash up against beaches containing bronzed lounging bodies. I glance outside as arctic winds rattle the classroom windows, pitting them with ice pellets, and I daydream about Greece. I put my hand up to ask how much it costs to fly there. “Wow, that much,” I say somewhat crestfallen. He tells me if I am interested after class he can give me information which would make it more reasonable. If I stay I will miss my ride home and on a day like today it is a long, cold walk home.
I decide to stay.
***
During this final year of studies I’ve picked up every spare hour I could get at my after-school job. Over the summer I’ve worked two. I have even babysat a few times. Every single atom in my body loathes babysitting, but the total in my account has been rising. I’ve even discovered a secret that I’m pretty sure no one knows about; banks give you something called “interest” when you leave your money alone. They add to your total…for free!
Last summer I told my parents about my plans after graduation. Uncharacteristically my mom seems excited about the prospect. My dad shows little interest in the topic except to say that he can’t afford to send me. When I tell them that I already have over one hundred dollars saved up they smile at each other.
Twelve months later as I stand before them with my new passport, my youth hostel pass, clothes stuffed into a backpack, and a plane ticket, my mom is in a state of panic. “I don’t get why you’re acting so hysterical, Mom. This is what I’ve been working so hard for all year.”
“I didn’t think you were actually going to go through with it,” she wails.
***
The muted sounds of the plane change from somnolent to frenetic. The occasional soft chimes of sleepy passengers transform to a strident buzzing chatter. The thick haze of cigarette smoke begins to dissipate as the No Smoking sign is lit up. I watch the buildings of London rush by as we descend and only ease my grip on the armrests after the wheels bump down. It takes almost an hour to get through security before I can retrieve my luggage. Then I stand in the middle of a swirling mass of strangers and think, What in the hell did I do?
I walk out of the terminal building and look around for a long time. I turn and walk back in. A nice lady behind the information desk gives me a plethora of brochures and a litany of instructions. I’m stunned to learn that it’s almost an hour tube ride into London from the airport. Even with help it takes me two hours to buy a ticket and actually find where I have to go to catch it. I almost change my mind and fly straight back home when I see two soldiers walk by carrying machine guns.
***
Two months later and I am standing on a beach on Santorini. Blue isn’t a good enough word as I try to describe the colour of the water to my parents on the postcard I hold in my hands. Turquoise? Azure? Teal, sapphire, or blue-green? Whatever colour it is, it’s beautiful, and I’ve never seen anything like it. The lapping swish of waves against the sand draws my feet toward the cool sea. The aroma of roasting lamb from a nearby souvlaki stand sets my mouth to water. I have just enough time to stop and order one with a double dollop of tzatziki before I have to meet my two new travel companions, Allison and Rob. We are on our way to Athens today and are catching the ferry. The columns of the Parthenon have been waiting for me for these last two thousand years.
***
One year later I am at home and in my old room. The two-month European trip had been extended to one year by scrimping, picking up odd jobs, sleeping outside, and more hungry days than I care to remember. Mom says she is ecstatic that I’m home, but the ecstasy has been short lived. “Did you know that Jane got married last winter?” “I just heard that Barb’s engaged.” “I think David is back in town. I think he is still single…” Subtle Mom. Real subtle.
The late season storm has blown itself out overnight, leaving the world looking clean and fresh. The old melted brown snowbanks now glow in the early morning light. I ran into my old boyfriend and his new wife yesterday; they looked happy. When he asked me if I was starting school this year I just laughed and shook my head. “I was thinking of checking out Peru,” I said.
And I think I meant it.
***
I do not hear a sound as I lie snug in my bedroll. Outside the birds and their mournful calls are silent. The frogs have finally worn themselves out and they too sleep. Even the restless wind lies motionless over the hot sands. I feel as if I am the only living creature still awake in the huge, quiet darkness and I smile before turning over to sleep: perchance to dream.
Image Credit
“Starry night over Wadi Rum” by Craig Stanton. www.flickr.com. Some rights reserved.
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