Bristol, and a Cottage

Dawn143Starred Page By Dawn143, 24th May 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>True Stories

Our traveling feet not only march over winding paths or rocky mountains, but trudge through a journey of emotions, feel the earth like a pulse, and the heart still exists in it all.

The Beginning of a Twinkle

Trekking a cobblestone path, as it weaved behind a hedge that drew my eyes up and up, my eyes wandered. Of course--I and my flats tripped over an offending rock juxtaposed up in the most offensive way. I felt a blush come to my cheeks for the embarrassment that welled up from my "mishap." An Irish brogue and an almost pixie-like laugh lilted after a "to be sure" echoing from behind a quaintly weathered wooden beam entryway at the end of the path. With delightful thoughts of leprechauns and the greens of a towering hill dancing behind my eyes, I wasn't sure what to expect as I knocked on the door.

Enchanting

"Pardon me, but I've come with the rent." An older woman who was as buxom as she was round opened the door with a smile that shimmered like her gaze. "Come in, come in dearie and rest yer' lovely self in ma' wee humble cavern," (she was speaking so fast I couldn't quite make out all the words.)

I smiled genuinely at her enthusiasm, amused as she kind of bounced with glee opening wide the creaking door and leading me in to the white-washed living area within.
I'd never felt so welcome, though I'd been in Bristol for at least a few weeks. All I'd gotten for my pleasure was cold stares, disdain and a cutting remark or five.

"Ah'n who's thi' ye brought into our fine household my darl'n wifey," a voice came from the hallway that I supposed led to the kitchen. A short slightly frail man with a shock of white hair, and a little hitch in his step, said with such joy as he came to greet me, I thought "two for two, mind blown." Giddy at the attention my own enthusiasm grew as I felt as if I'd just been enveloped in a heart-warming hug.

My Piv' Moment

I couldn't help but blurt out "You have a lovely home," to which the couple beamed and smiled at each other in response. I pointed to the large golden disk I'd noticed with crest emblazoned on the front centered over their very impressive stone fireplace. Asking how such a grand thing came to be and what it was, was apparently the best question I could have asked. The jovial older/young man went into to detail about the importance of his family crest and how it'd been passed down from generation to generation.

As he continued on, I only catching snippets because his dialect was so thick--couldn't help but be drawn in. Everything zoomed out of focus but the melodic sound of his voice spinning an intriguing tale, and the emanating warmth that had nothing to do with the interiors thick walls, and everything to do with two people in love with their lives, their culture--caught me and held.
It was that special moment so hard to describe--you just don't care where you are or what you're doing, it's the enchantment of the thing.

Here in this world, this country, feeling intangible, nostalgic with pure character oozing from its pores, I was swept away. It was like a dream, there I was so far from home, in a place that felt truer more monumental to me than the Stone Henge I'd oohed and ahhed' at a few days ago, more transcendent than when I saw the etchings from some of the great writers of history on a window pane in Shakespeare's birth place. Suddenly an abrupt and terribly genial voice cut through my reverie, as reality sharpened its claws and ripped me from my fantasy.

Reality

"Cheers, we must be off, I hope you had a pleasant day. We've work to be done, you understand." A hard, steely grip on my shoulder, painfully pulled and led me to another door a short distance away. As the door shut behind me, the cold seeped like ice in my veins. The curtain shut over the window on the door instantly blanketing the room in a grey. A caustic glare pierced little razor blades marks into my forehead.

"I just told you go drop the envelope off not make a scene, not ingratiate yourself--pathetic!" His demeaning grimace spread across his face,"those simpletons don't shut up, once you get them started.You thought you were special for second did you? How ungrateful are you? I saw you smiling at them like a fool, it was pitiful, how perfectly 'tourist of you.'

"I..I.." stuttering I couldn't get a cohesive word out as I struggled to find the words to stop the little shards of disgust from finding their mark. His chilling laughter killed the sunshine like the curtain snuffing out the light, my throat felt choked with tears. At least for a while, there had been pleasure.Finally, now finally it has come back, in my memories.

Building a House of Straw

This was my little slice of heaven in a time when reaching heaven was no small feat. My piece of culture that never lost its potency in my heart. My holding on that never felt like holding on more like grasping at whatever straws were given me. Wonderful, beautiful straws. I realized we can only crush roses, smash their petals, it's temporary, to rid ourselves of them we'd have to pull them out by the root. My roots are still burgeoning. I want to go back someday, not to England, but to that feeling of welcome, of blissful acceptance. To an old couple who gave me 30 minutes of joy and a straw.

Tags

Character, Culture, Door, Emotion, England, Experience, Moment, Path, Straw, Travel

Meet the author

author avatar Dawn143
My real passion is writing poetry, but I also have begun to dabble in writing a children's story and a fictional novel. I also like finding fun facts about animals, I enjoy researching similar areas.

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Comments

author avatar Lady Aiyanna
24th May 2015 (#)

Funnily, cash payments are the best although I never like to meet the person as it brings down security.
Not a modern day person though.

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author avatar Mark Gordon Brown
25th May 2015 (#)

England does seem so charming, I would like to visit one day.

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author avatar Sivaramakrishnan A
25th May 2015 (#)

Different experiences that make our lives worth remembering - siva

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author avatar snerfu
25th May 2015 (#)

A lot like pulling the cat's tail...that is another tale altogether. Makes nice reading.

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