. . . a respite.

What can I see?

I see green landscapes, rolling hills. . . A little stone cottage in the foreground. It has a blackened, shake shingle roof, mossy from the abundance of moisture in the air. There is a cobblestone path that leads to the front of the cottage, from the narrowly defined brick road coming from town. The road passes the cottage and winds its way through the woods to the west. Behind the cottage, a series of rolling hills live, each with its own story to tell.

In the town is a myriad of shops, inns, and bistros – each unique in their own way, each inviting to both visitors and those who dwell among them. We are both. We came by surprise, only passing through, but something about the place drew us in. We tried to leave after our time was through, but could not (unfortunately for those expecting us to return).

The cottage became ours. Luckily for us, we had friends and family who could finalize our affairs in that other world, allowing us the opportunity to stay where we were most comfortable. The café at the edge of town, The Dragonfly, belongs to us. It is there we spend most of our hours, catering to those who need us most. We don’t mind. We enjoy what we do. Our friends enjoy it, too. They are not merely customers we serve, but friends – who over time – become more a family than what we knew from before.


What can you see?


~ by shinshige on 11 February 2009.

One Response to “. . . a respite.”

  1. This is nicely done.

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