wrong turn
“And how did you come to write this essay?” asked Terry Gross.
“It just bubbled up from my unconscious” replied the interviewee in his squeaky, nasal, objectionable voice, sounding so full of himself. He just couldn’t stand listening to this babble and punched the tuning button to switch to music. Somber, dark harmonies filled the car. “Not much better” he thought, sighing very deeply. “Damn, I should have turned left back there” he said to himself as the street turned into a narrow, two-lane highway. “Oh well, I’ll just have to hang a U-ee when I have a chance” he said. He had developed this habit of talking to himself in the car, at his desk, or anywhere when there was no one else to talk to. Which was most of the time. He was unfamiliar with this road. He was on his way to the group therapy session he had reluctantly joined the week before on the urging of his daughter. She seemed to know exactly what he needed, what he should do, and how, where, and with whom he should do it, and never hesitated to point it out. Repeatedly. It was on her urging that he had moved to this town a few weeks ago, when he had a choice to relocate or be laid off. “Will this damn road be ever wide enough to make a turn? At least a driveway, or a crossroad?” he pleaded to himself. “Serves me right listening to Heather. I should have just told her to mind her own business… What makes her think that |
she knows everything? Knows better than I do… Just like her mother… At least I could get out of that marriage, at last (not that it solved any problems)… But how do you divorce your daughter?... She means well, but God! It drives me nuts listening to her bitch and moan about my being depressed… lonely… morose… hostile… and whatever else she can come up with…”
“Huhhh… I suppose she is right… I have been all those things, at least some of the time… But the stupid group is not going to change any of that… Not any time soon, anyway… Boy, this road is so beautiful! It’s so much more pleasant to be driving here than being in that group session… To hell with the session! I won’t turn around even if there is an opportunity!... I will just follow this road, and the little river here, to see where they lead…” The trees were in bloom and sunshine filtering among the twigs and branches made it feel like he was driving through a lovely mosaic pattern. He slowed the car and rolled down the window to let in the breeze. The scent of spring filled his lungs. He took a huge breath stretching his neck and leaning back against the headrest. “This is heaven”, he whispered. He turned off the music in the radio and coasted to a stop along the shoulder of the highway. The special kind of peaceful quiet, only found in nature, filled the car now. There were little sounds of course, the lapping of the water, an occasional chirp of a bird – sounds that only add to the quiet, not like city noise. |
“All I need to do is come here once in a while” he said. “An hour or so out here, in the peace and quiet, and no more depression, no more morosity, I bet”…
He got out of the car and clambered down to the stream’s edge. Just as he reached for a tree branch to steady himself, a pheasant suddenly exploded out of a low bush next to him, its wingtip almost touching his cheek. He was momentarily stunned, hearing the whoosh of wings, feeling its whiff on his skin, seeing the flash of brilliant colors, and just stood there in place, absorbing the sense of bliss of the moment. “Perfection”, he thought. After a few minutes he climbed back to the car and continued slowly down the road. He felt at peace, content, more so than in a very long time. “I wish I could come here every day… I’ll have to tell… Yeah, sure, tell? Tell whom?...”, he said mockingly, mocking himself. He drove quietly on. After a wide arc of a turn there he saw a small picnic area |
between the road and the stream. There was a green MG with top down parked there with a few picnic tables beyond. The sun, at a low angle, was reflected by the water and he had to squint in the glare. He parked, got out, slowly walking toward the water. There was someone sitting on a bench at the water’s edge. A woman. Her hair cascading down behind her, glistening in the light. He rounded the bench and stood at the water’s edge, a few steps from the bench. It was the only bench there. She was sitting near the end of it, her head resting on the back of the bench, her eyes closed. Serene.
He stepped closer and said quietly “I hope you don’t mind”, as he lowered himself to the other end of the bench. “Hmmm”, she said quietly, looking at him and pausing. “I come here to be alone. It is like meditating.” “Exactly”, he replied. “I wonder. Perhaps we could try to be alone together”, he continued with a small smile. “It might be less lonesome.” And he leaned back, just like her. |