This story originally appeared on the Gents Cafe Newsletter. You can subscribe here.
It’s a peace that I haven’t experienced in some time. Not since I lived on the farm, deep in the roots of the English countryside. Encompassed by the dry, sun-drenched odour of the earth. Moved only by the breeze that carries the promise of a summer harvest. Serenaded by the background sound of nature.
I’m lucky to remember this and that there are old memories to tap into that make this feeling somewhat familiar. Memories of times where often the only thing to do was to walk or ride a bike. Where you’d go for miles to see a friend only to find they’re at their cousin’s house. And you’d just keep on walking. Keep on riding.
Maybe chase some cows.
It’s not for everyone. And there are times where I am glad to not go through that anymore — because it’s nice to get what you want. But it’s a grounding experience to move without the promise of success. To leave without knowing if rain will fall.
There’s no distraction. No knowing if he’s writing new music. No knowing what’s up in the city. No knowing what is going on at all beyond the fuzzy frequency of an old radio. And the bad signal puts you off hearing the news anyway.
But there is a desire to do more. To know such things. That doesn’t just leave. And there’s a slight insanity that comes knocking in these times. Unfortunately you’re always in when it does. So there has to be a trust and belief manifested that all is well. A faith that I am where I should be. Near to her. Below the blue. Above the grain. Between the sticks.
As shallow or as deep as it needs to be.
Because the cows don’t care that I had to drive for an hour to a forest to turn my phone off. The pigs aren’t influenced by my words. And the birds mock my ambition with their faintest flight.
Soon she will walk in and I’ll brew a cup of coffee over the stove and I’ll watch the smoke climb through the air with a slight scent of honeysuckle and peach. Maybe then we’ll walk to the local shop and maybe it’ll be closed. But the weather is in our favour and I’m feeling boyishly hopeful. Ready to be disappointed. Ever so slowly. Like I used to.
I’m glad to remember this.
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