By the Letter – 7 –
Deirdre woke late and felt satisfied, like she’d just slept better than she’d ever slept before. And her inner calm was reflected by the weather: the wind had quieted during the night, and now there was not a cloud on the sky.
She took her time getting ready because she felt that the path was waiting patently for her. She gazed at the harbor view from her apartment, enjoying her breakfast in peace. She had all the time in the world; nothing could distract her now.
For this last day out walking she was late to the path, stepping out on it at 2:30. The sea was flat, like it was holding its breath. The view out over the Jerbourg point this last time revealed the bushes down the stairs—they’d previously appeared harsh, but now they had buds all over them, preparing to erupt in bloom in the coming days. Deirdre took her time experiencing the view, sharing it with her family. Today they didn’t follow; she brought them with her.
No matter what the book said about this day, Deirdre was going to write her own experience for herself.
The path embraced her as she walked. At
She wanted her kids and her husband to feel her feelings, to share the joy she felt in bringing them there with her. Somehow, perhaps by the soft pace of the flattening sea’s remaining waves, she was brought the message: they felt her joy, too.
In one sense Deirdre didn’t want to leave that beach, that feeling—it had become a part of her. Whatever she was experiencing, even if it was a fantasy, Deirdre felt alive. She turned to the cliff, feeling the sea supporting her. She didn’t want to leave the cliff or the path, as they both had become friends. The winding path she felt was carrying her forward. There wasn’t resistance anymore in her walk; the path wasn’t leading her; she took the lead.
Whatever she cast off on the path previously she picked up now. But instead of closing it behind her, she opened it for others. Deirdre made the path wider in spite of the steep cliff and its turnings.
How could this be? How can you walk in between, on a narrow path between heaven and the sea and feel safe? Could the trick be ignoring the danger, or could it be the opposite: being aware? Deirdre was very much aware, more than ever before. The steeper the cliff, the narrower the path became, and the more certain Deidre became, trusting her inner emotions rather than emotions brought on to her by others.
From her first moment out on the cliff Deidre hadn’t been hiding. Instead she had exposed herself, to both Mother Nature and her self, leaving no one to blame. She had been brought there by a story, a book, and right then she decided to take that book back to the library. She could release it now because she had enriched the story further, as all the others had before her.
“How could you ever describe such a book?” Deirdre thought while walking. “You can’t, and you shouldn’t!” She smiled broadly. “That’s why the others didn’t say anything about the book,” she thought, “it’s not there in the text, it’s there between the lines.” Whatever that book was, the magic, she now was determined to return it, and like the others she wouldn’t say a word to reveal its secret.
When she met with her friend at the restaurant, Deirdre felt a joy entering her body. Her friend hadn’t been a stranger when they first met, and on this, her seventh day out walking the path, they merged; Deirdre had finally met herself.
This day, Saturday, Deirdre enjoyed a late lunch at the restaurant with wine, monkfish, and scallops, celebrating her last day on the path. You would think it would have been a bit sad, but no. This was a celebration in joy, as her last hour of walking back to town turned out to be as well.
Her friend didn’t leave her this time at that same spot on the path, and from there on they never parted. Her friend brought her life, including the ability to appreciate her kids and her husband in so many new ways. But above all, Deirdre had understood how to appreciate herself.
From the last peak where the path ended, Deirdre remained, simply looking.
The road leading back to town felt kind of distant, even though it wasn’t really far. Turning her head to look back, she could both see and feel the distance she had travelled. In her mind she had walked miles, but because she brought a memory with her, she could still touch that beginning of the path.
She would return to the path one day—that she was certain of. But had the others? Was there yet more to discover, or did the path just repeat itself like this? Deirdre shook her head, smiling, certain that more secrets were there to discover along the way; all it took was walking the path and being open to its twists and turns.
Back at her apartment she took her time packing, preparing for her next day’s departure. She didn’t feel the need to open the book this evening; she wanted it to have a rest for a while until tomorrow.
