Out of all misery...

You can't stay sad, when you cycle. Therefore, in order to overcome being absolutely miserable, I had to go on a tour today, just before nightfall.
The dog had to come, even if she was not pleased about it. She loves to go for walk though, but the day should be bright, no rain for instance, and no heat either. And there should be a car to jump in taking her to her sniffing grounds. A shaky bicycle with a small and tight basket to sit in, that's not her idea of a good journey.
Well, since she was not only colour-blind, which is normal for dogs, but also a right and left confused, and had no idea of stopping when she was supposed to stop (obviously believing that cars were nothing but massive animals that could be wagged away with a cute tail if necessary) she he had no other choice. She either had to get in the basket or stay at home all on her own. So after considering her options and giving me the 'do-I-really-have-to' look, she finally gave in. And the sadness for her began.
And so, when we reached the first meadow she could make out from above, she suddenly decided that she had no business with the basket anymore. She jumped out of it and fell right into a puddle that came from God knows where, as it hadn't rained for days. Did I mention she hates bathing?
I nodded a curt "told you, didn't I" and put her back in the basket. "This is not it", I explained to her and went on to the big park surrounding most parts of the city.
It was a good tour through those fields and meadows and after only a few cubic meters of fresh air I had forgotten what was bugging me and enjoyed the sunset and its orange while cycling next to my jumping and dashing dirty dog.
She was so happy that, with still a faint vestige of an idea what was painful in my life, I did not have the heart to put her back into the basket so soon.
A chance! There it was!
From the moment she had to run on the street she stayed next to my front wheel as if she was tied to it by an invisible chain. Taken utterly by surprise I ordered a left and a right, when ever it was due, and she looked at me with that certain semblance of a smile only a dog can provide and followed the right direction. She stopped before I could even command at every street or corner and also at every unclear drive. And she matched speed when ever I was forced to slow down or speed up. I was so surprised that I nearly missed our own drive, but of course, the dog reminded me.
No more baskets, she said. No more sadness. And I promised.

I was told that once, actor, director and musician Tom Waits was interviewed by a journalist whose best friend, Sven, was a huge fan of Waits's. So after, in behalf of his friend, the journalist would politely ask, if Waits was willing to sign some CD booklets. Waits refused.

In order to persuade him, the journalist said: "But he's got all your records!" Waits then asked for a piece of paper and a pen, inquired the friend's name, wrote a few words, handed the piece of paper over to the journalist and left with a curt goodbye.

When Waits had left, the journalist read: "Sven! I heard you got all my records. I want them back! Tom Waits."

This happened not very long after the war, when the French where understandably disgusted by Germans entering their country as tourists. Still they would come, though, those unwelcome guests, if their love for France overcame the hostile looks and, even worse, the silence. Because the French would not argue. They would stay ever so quiet and remember.
In those days, a young woman with her newly wedded husband went on her first trip to the south, to the Mediterranean Sea. She was excited, but instantly felt uneasy by the fact that she might not be welcome in this country. The atmosphere actually alarmed her. How could she learn the language, for example, if no one was willing to talk to her? The husband who had been here many times before, tried to allay her fears and doubts and assured her that only time could bring change, and that, if they kept quiet, too, they could eventually succeed in proving to be trustworthy. And in the meantime she could become acquainted with the land.
Like a child, she nodded and calmed down a little as she was quite willing to relax. After all, this was her holiday, and there was the beautiful south of France right at her fingertips, with all its red wine, white bread and that marvellous blue ocean.
They were still on their way to that little town near the Spanish border, where they wanted to spend their vacation, when they had a break just outside a village at the famous Route Nationale 10, leading form Paris directly to Perpignan.
The husband checked the car inside and out, while the young lady stayed near him, not really knowing what to do. She stretched her legs a little, feeling the sun on her skin, and then she walked along the road looking at some sunflower fields on one side, and a small old farm on the other side, its area surrounded by a big wooden fence. Right there, at the fence, an old man stood looking at the arrivals. Suspicion, again she felt it. But now she was determined to ignore it and enjoy the sun and the air and the land.
She instantly forgot the old man and looked at her husband, in order to ask him whether they could take a longer walk, getting away from the traffic for a while. After all, there was no one waiting for them, and so they could stay as long as they wanted.
Suddenly, right beside her, she saw a biddy stumble over the gravel, not even being able to fly yet. It had probably sneaked through the farm's fences, and was now on its way to the busy road. She kneeled down and carefully took the little creature into her hands. When she had carried it over to the fence, she let it slip back inside through a gap. Happily she looked at the stumbling little life that was now safe inside the yard.
But there, unexpectedly and ever so suddenly, a cat jumped onto the chick and caught it. The young woman was petrified with horror. She could not move, not do anything nor say anything. She just stood there, tears running down her cheeks.
Still crying, the young woman felt a hand on her shoulder, softly but firmly holding onto her. The old man had come up to her, and now he spoke, and what he said, made sense to her, even though she did not speak French, he said: "C'est la vie."

When she was little, she knew it all. I am the center. Everything is around me, my parents, my brother and sister, the cat, the houses and shops, the city, and, eventually, the whole world. And she was happy to be on the world. Because she would not have wanted someone else to be her, no way.

© 2009