Thank-you to all who commented so generously on the doggerel series in May. Your visits are much appreciated, even though I have not been able to return the favor much recently.
(To anyone that knows me, what follows is fiction!)
I planned a trip with a friend and happily imagined the cozy times we would have together talking, eating, sight-seeing and the like. The night before we were to leave, she called and told me that another friend of hers was coming along. I felt betrayed and devastated. I surveyed my suitcase waiting by the door and considered unpacking it, but went to bed instead.
In the night came a dream of a giant garden that I dutifully tended. I planted seeds. They sprouted, but were eaten by rabbits and black flying bugs. I planted seedlings. They flourished but a day or so before wilting and dying. Then I saw volunteer plants growing among the weeds. Vegetables and herbs and flowers had re-seeded themselves from the previous year. They grew right in front of my eyes, tall and strong. I woke up and knew I had been sent a message to go on the trip.
We rode the boat. We climbed the mountains. We found the waterfalls. We toured the cathedrals. We listened to so many street musicians. We swam in the lake and then ate ice cream on the shore. We fed the brightly colored birds the crumbs from our bread and cheese picnics. Everything went exactly as I had planned except that we were three rather than two.
On the last night, we watched fireworks and admired all the bonfires lit on the surrounding mountains. As we walked back to the hostel, the talk turned to the dread of having to return to work. The unexpected traveler asked me a question that changed the entire course of my life. She said, “why don’t you go back to school?” To that point, I had never considered this most excellent idea, so it turned out there had indeed been a good reason to go on the altered trip.
I did not converse cozily with my friend during the trip, however, nor when I went back to school, not until long after I graduated.
I keep looking at that bit of moss at the back of the image, as if it is representing the betrayed you on finding that a third traveller had been included in the invitation.
