This morning was slightly less sunny for my walk, eerily calm but a little overcast. Before I left the house, thoughts and ponderings on his presence were on my mind distracting me from all those little things which usually catch my attention. I found myself looking for him, searching the horizon to see if he was there before me. I probably left too early. Dammit now should I wait for him or just slow down? The dog was having none of the slowing down business, so on we walked.
Turning the last corner, I glanced down the straight stretch of road to see him standing there with his back to me, legs spread slightly, hands on his hips which he seemed to be rolling a little, gazing seaward. I smiled to myself, delighted with the opportunity to sneak up on him today. But then he turned. He turned and he trapped my gaze. And then the most unnerving thing ever, he smiled and gave a wave.
His long strides quickly reached me, smile still in place, eyes still on mine though I did have to drop my gaze not used to the intensity of his. A tentative good morning left my lips, to be met with that oh so wholesome gravelly voice of his replying he wasn’t sure if he’d left too early and whether he should wait. I laughed, suddenly comforted by his mirrored insecurity at our haphazard arrangements for this morning. “You too then?” I queried. “Me too”, he chuckled back.
We opted for the cliff walk, both enthusiastic with energy in our steps. His silent strength gave comfort on the more difficult sections, my mind constantly wondering how such a brute of a man was agile enough to take on walls and ditches with such ease and grace. For the first half hour, he left me to my own devices for the most part, but then proffered a hand on an older less stable stone wall when the stones moved where I stood. In my defence, I did have the dog lead in one hand…!
No, I’m not interested in this man. No, I’m not attracted to him. No, I’m not looking at him in this way. But I am fascinated by him. It’s so difficult to find someone to walk with who doesn’t want to chat incessantly, who doesn’t want to discuss the local population in depth, who doesn’t want to make pleasantries, who just enjoys getting out and sharing the sight of a cormorant swooping and diving for breakfast, who stops not because they’re breathless from exertion but because the life around them has taken their breath away.
We stopped for a while and sat. He asked how my day was yesterday, I asked about his. The dog climbed into my lap for a rest and I listened to that low growl of his as he told me about his evening. I watched the world pass by, and I just listened.
We started the decline towards home, barren fields giving way to greener lusher pastures. Senses come alive at the smell of bacon cooking in a house nearby, the Sunday morning ritual of many bringing me back down to earth. A hand on my elbow as I climb a stile with the dog in one hand, I watch him throw one leg on the gate beside then launch himself over the top. The hand is back as I turn to climb back down.
The road feels heavier on my feet now, to be honest I’m a little sad that the walk is nearly over. We reach where we need to part ways, both stopping, both turning. The growl is back, “thanks for the company, I enjoyed that.” I can’t meet his gaze, afraid of what he’ll see, what’s bare and clear that I can’t hide. “I enjoyed it too.” God I sound like a deflated teenager who has to get home before curfew. “Same time tomorrow morning?” I finally bring my eyes up, “I’ll be looking forward to it,” a hot blush following my admission as I turned to take my own road home.
Warm hugs (coffee) waited for me at home, silent empty rooms not seeming so silent or empty. My only hope being he doesn’t read into it all.
MLP
