At the end of a winding, overgrown path, the house sits waiting for you. Past the old front door you’ll find a hall that leads to a living room, a kitchen, and a small library. Tall windows let dusty morning light in, which softly illuminate the clutter that has gathered in the rooms over the years from the house’s many visitors. There’s usually people in the living room, talking and drinking coffee. The kitchen is always busy with the sound of sizzling pans and chatter, and the smell of bacon and butter in the mornings, and garlic and onion in the evenings. The library may have a sole reader, tucked away in a nook surrounded by piles of books. You might know them. Plenty pass through the library, and either leave something or take something. You can run your fingers over the shelved books and feel the different bindings on the spines; paper, leather, wood, or ivory.
Through the kitchen door you’ll find yourself in a garden. An old marble fountain, with ivy creeping up its sides, sends a stream of water glistening into the sun. There are multitudes of plants, broad in colour and form; wildflowers, lavenders, peonies, sunflowers, and more; and patches of ferns, brambles, and nettles, all shaded below oaks, yews, and ashes. Walking in you’ll feel the pollen-scented breeze on your face. You are still in the house, but not in an atrium. The sky is blue and the sun is warm. Further down the path you will find where people grow the food for the house, the patches of cucumbers and strawberries. The small fields of potatoes and carrots. There are pens of pigs and sheep. We have a few cows. Lots of people work around here, caked in mud. Happy for tea at the house when the day is done.
If you keep going you’ll find a stream that leads into a woodland. Out of the woodland, the stream joins a river and crosses over rolling grasslands. You’ll find a lot of people walking this path, people like you. They’re headed to the sea, glittering blue, and the docks at the mouth of the river. There are boats there, willing to take you wherever you want to go.
That part is up to you. The sea beyond is uncharted. People have found continental savannahs teeming with life and scorching under a ceaseless sun. Emerald castles waiting out in the depths of frozen caves. Bustling villages resting on floating islands that bob along the currents. The sea connects many places and many people, some of whom are explorers, just like you. You may meet some in passing.
There can be danger too. Storms, monsters, and threats that are harder to imagine. There are also great treasures. Wealth, knowledge, and gifts that are harder to quantify. It’s all part of the stories you will make. But you can only make them if you’re willing to step out into the unknown waters of the sea.
You are still in the house. You can come back whenever you want and see friendly faces, and sit down to a glass of wine, and tell us about what you’ve seen, and what you’ve been up to. Then the night will press on, and a few more tales will be told, and sleep will tug at everyone’s eyes. People sleep in the beds upstairs, or on the couches, or on the porch when the weather is warm.
And when you’re drifting off to sleep, to dream of your next journey and all the sights you’ll see, the house will mull the story you have told. Somewhere in that small library, a new book will appear.
And in the morning, someone new will walk through the door, and they may just take that book with them as they head for the sea.
Paddy Dobson
15th July 2021
This is lovely