Tag Archive for ‘Writing’

The Reunion

The Reunion

She had moved away and gotten married in southern France. Now he was on his way back from that long last reunion. It had been as perfect as he dreamt of all those years.

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She was so beautiful as he remembered. Even if the years had put some fine lines around her eyes. But her smile. Her smile hit him like a hammer in the gut as she stood there at the train station in Marseille. He always thought that her smile could melt a solid rock. He was thrown back to a high school kid and his legs could not move. She waved. Still smiling but now with eyebrows frowned. Questioning why he stopped.

As the platform was almost emptied with people his legs finally started to function again. They met in a warm long embrace. He felt his whole body melt into her arms. He could not hold back his tears. They were tears of longing and time lost. She broke loose from his embrace and held his face in her hands. Those soft warm hands. With the thumbs she dried his tears of and gave him a kiss. He was unprepared so it was short. They looked at each other. Still with her hands around his face before they joined in a long kiss. A twenty year of waiting kiss. He could see it from the outside like in a movie. You know when the camera circles around and the song She with Charles Aznavour playing.

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With a warm feeling inside he told this to the two young backpackers he was sharing train compartment with. He did not have to tell them this. They had only started some small talk as they realized they were from the same country. As the train pulled out of Paris Gare Du Nord he continued his story. The two youngsters listened with big ears and interested eyes. He decided to leave out the first night they had together as they arrived to her small Vineyard outside Marseille.

When he heard that her husband left her he had struggled with himself to dare that first letter to his youth love. The love of his life. Finally the longing got the better of him and he wrote. His own marriage was already over as there was no love. He wrote with the pieces of his shattered heart. The heart that broke when she did not returned after a year as au pair. He waited in turmoil for the reply. Lost several kilos as he could not eat or sleep. After a week he got her reply that he opened with trembling hands and sweat dripping from his forehead. He had to start over several times to finish as his eyes was blurred by tears of yearning.

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He called in sick to work. Booked a train ticket and sent her a letter explaining when he would arrive. He was that confident that the feelings were still there. Confident that if they met the spark would burst into flames. Now he sat here telling his story to the two boys. Going back to finish of his entire life and move to the south of France. Move to her. She who shattered his heart now so gently mended it piece by piece.

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The Walker

The Walker

He came walking with small steps supported by a old peoples walker. It was a cold damp morning in December with temperatures just above freezing point. He walked towards us as we stood in the small shelter waiting for the tram to arrive. He was dressed in hospital clothes. Those thin trousers and loose hanging shirt covered only by a thin jacket. He did not appear to be bothered by the cold as he entered the shelter to check the board for arrival time of the next tram.

Tram (Picture by Ulle Haddock 2020)

As it was early in the morning there was a few minutes more wait than during the day. He leaned against the walker and breathed fast from the walk. We just stood there in silence waiting for the tram. As the tram approached he asked if we could help him aboard. He explained that these older type of trams was difficult to board due to the gap and the walkers wheels sometimes got stuck. We offered without hesitation to assist him. He looked at us with a big smile of relief.

We got on the tram and helped him get seated. I think he saw the question in our eyes so he offered an explanation. He was on leave from the hospital where he recovered from a small surgery to meet up with a lady friend in the city center. He emphasized that it was a lady friend. They plan to have coffee and then go for lunch before he went back. There was a sparkle in his eyes when he spoke about his lady friend. I guess there were deeper feelings involved.

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As we approached the city center he asked for help again. This time to get of and change to another tram line as this one would not get him to his final destination. How can you refuse? We even waited to help him to enter the next tram. Luckily so because the driver tried to close the doors on him several times before a lady in the front shouted at him to calm down and let the man get on the tram.

We watched him as the tram drove off. Last thing I could see was that he was struggling to be seated and I hoped that someone else could help him. We crossed the tracks to our next tram taking us to our final destination. So the life went on but I sometimes think of this man. Was he on the run from the hospital? Should I try to call somebody? How has his life been? Did he have any children? Why was he out from the hospital alone?

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These questions remain as hidden gems for a wannabe writer like me so I will cherish them and be thankful that I could be of any assistance, right or wrong. If you are bored with commuting, try to look at the people around you. They are stories that only they know and if you do not feel like talking. Just make the stories up, nobody will know. As always please comment, like, share and subscribe. You can also me out on social media or check my other posts. Both pictures in this post are made by me. First attempt to draw on the touch screen.

Pontoon

Pontoon

This past winter was one of the mildest ever. There was very little snow and the bay where we have the boat only froze once in early December. It was like a prolonged autumn. Not uncommon in the west coast of Sweden. This is due to the Gulf Stream that brings warm water from the Gulf of Mexico to Scandinavia. This stream also brings mild and rainy weather over the British isles and then continues to Scandinavia. The winter comes from the north east. Normally we have a few weeks in January and February with temperatures below Zero degrees Celsius. Then the bays in the fjord freezes and with the wind and stream ice will press on any pontoons or bridges until they break.

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So to save our bridge pontoon we towed it across the bay and pulled it up on shore where the ice will not reach. Normally but not this year. Some heavy storms and low pressure weather systems made the water raise far over the normal level. At some point, even if we attached the pontoon well it came loose and floated away. So in the spring when we put the boat in the water we went to get the pontoon just to find it GONE! The first trip with the boat was to slowly seek out the shores in the fjord to find the pontoon. Hoping that it did no damage to something or floated out to the sea.

Salvaging

After about one hour we found it far up on a rocky beach. It was intact and not far from the anchoring point but on an island. It was too far up on the beach to be pulled into the water by boat. Me and my son started to try jerk and snitch with ropes and planks to move it into the water. We tried using planks and stones to create a lever to move the almost 200 kilo pontoon. We got it to move but some large stones stopped us and finally my back said. “Stop, you foolish old man” with a snap. We had to surrender for now. And it took more than a week for my back to heal.

After the second storm.

Before we could try again a new storm hit, moving the pontoon back up on the shore. So now we had lost all meters we managed last attempt. Fortunately it moved sideways away from the large stones. This time we came more prepared with more planks to use as lever and with more manpower. In the future I might write a blog on all Swedish swearwords because I think we used them all before we got the pontoon into the water. But we did it, YEAH!

Success
Strong men on a pontoon.

Now the wind had picked up and we got a strong head wind as we towed the pontoon to its anchoring point at the bridge. It is quite hard to steer a small boat alone in strong winds. So you can imagine the challenge towing a rectangular pontoon bridge. Now the challenge is to get the pontoon to the anchoring point without running into the rock or run the propeller into the seabed as the water is quite shallow. But with skill and MUCH luck we managed to steer clear and maneuver the pontoon to its anchoring point at the first attempt. Next year we will secure the pontoon better.

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