Sunday, 15 November 2009

Distant Shores

When I am feeling overwhelmed and weary, Brittany comes to claim my thoughts...

I remember how, three months ago, we arrived on French soil at around 7 in the morning, and by the time we arrived in the town, which was to be our dwelling for the week, a stealthy mist hung in the air, a veil which only enhanced the beauty we would shortly see in full, when the hot sun's rays dispersed the vapour to reveal pure skies.

There was a lot of waiting to do that day. We were tired after a virtually sleepless night, and I lay by a lake (not the one pictured) that afternoon on a picnic blanket, with my love asleep in my arms like a child. I lay awake, listening to the crickets stirring in the grass around us, and people walking on the path by the shoreline. It seemed that they were walking in and out of my dreams; I could not understand what they were saying. The sun warmed my face.

There was something in the stillness at twilight that made me feel somehow complete, just for a moment, and night after night I stood statuesque on the veranda, watching over the peaceful town, silhouetted against the darkening sky. I could sense the presence of my family, my parents, my brothers, my fiancé, within the house behind me. The five people I love most in the world. I thought, I could live here...

Yes, maybe, just maybe, I could live there, in a white house with blue shutters, set upon the cliff top. My love and I could gaze out across the sea, imagining the English coast lying somewhere beyond the horizon, just out of sight, just out of reach. My family could live in the surrounding houses; they could be my neighbours, never far away.

Overlooking the 'dream house' were the ruins that haunted me, magnificent despite their crumbling certainty of desolation and decay. Perhaps it was the foreignness that so attracted me, inspired me. I look back at the photographs and admire the places: the towns, the beaches, the lakes, the cathedrals, the island, the beauty spots... But I don't think I could live there. I could never live in a place with a cultural barrier; a place where I was perceived as an alien, an outsider. I would miss England too much. I think my heart belongs here in the UK. But I can still dream...


Anna said...

Oh darling.
The house with the blue shutters has quite captivated my heart!
What a beautiful, enchanting post Kess.
Your words,
are like jewels in my mouth.

Lynnette Kraft said...

Simply beautiful! I love the picture of your and your husband in your profile. You don't love each other at all do you? :)

I just wanted to pop by and thank you for your comment on my post - "Wondering if you're sick of me yet". How sweet it was of you to assure me that my blog is being enjoyed. Thank you for the encouragement.
Have a peaceful week.
Dancing Barefoot on Weathered Ground

Lynnette Kraft said...

Oh, I guess he's not hubby yet - well, your fiance' then. :)

Kess said...

*Anna* I thought you'd like this post, and I just knew you'd love the house as much as I do! French houses are so pretty! :)
Lovely to hear from you, my dear! Thanks for stopping by! I always love to hear from you!
I only wish I could offer you a cuppa each time you sit and read my words! :)

*Lynnette* Thank you, and yes, you never would have guessed from the photo that we're in love! Lol. Thank you for your kind words :) And thank you for stopping by! It must be quite a task keeping up with all the comments and emails you receive!