East

The convoluted twisting landscape was slowly turning more languid and lethargic as the train inched itself into Prague. There was a sense of arrival in the air as the clustered travelers were delicately grabbing for their belongings. They started to twitch and twirl in their seats knowing that soon the train will stop. I never really liked the conclusion of journeys and there fore was always prone to melancholy and regret, knowing I would soon need to battle the rawness of a new place, as well as find my brother in the maze of that winding city. I waited for some time for the cabin to clear, looking out the window onto the station platform, observing the groups of people passing by, each with with their own special walk,special suitcase,special coat; A maze of versatility and color that is in constant movement and direction towards a mysterious end, and yet there was a flow to it all and perhaps A certain sadness at the wavering stillness of our earth and how we are always on some kind of journey towards a mysterious end.

Prague

I had good reason to go East. My brother Michael was making his own journey there. He had been somewhat remote and distant in the few weeks, that even the usual check in call or letter had not come through for some time, that I started to worry as to his where about. But then, just before my leaving San Simone, I received word through my mother that he was in Prague and awaiting my arrival there. I had no way of reaching him, other then the name of the hotel he was staying in, and decided to take a chance and surprise him. The train going East was somewhat labored and misdirected as it weaved itself through the confused landscape of the Austrian alps into pastoral green valleys that could only be imagined in postcards. I had this feeling that every tiny village I passed, even from the small secluded hob-let, was a place I can make a life in and start a completely new page. It was as though I had once belonged to this land in some pre historical existence and that all those I left behind were all there in those tiny villages waiting my arrival. I knew that all this would have to wait for now, and more then anything I needed to see my brother Michael more then I needed Prague or anything else for that matter. I needed familiar blood to connect with in what was starting to feel like a deserted landscape more and more.

Departures

The train to the East left late from the central station,where the late night shuffle of a homeless man was the last person i saw as the train slowly made its way out the city. That was a moment I loved; That slow rattle of a train moving towards a silent destination far from the fray of the bustle. The night brought out the mystery of it even more, and being alone in my cabin, I looked out the window and saw that ancient cobbled landscape inching itself away from me slowly. Slowly away to the East where a new world was awaiting me. And the train kept rolling. Trains were the source of something deep and churning within me. Something of a lost youth I was always trying to regain,trying to hold on to. But what really could I hold on to, and even Monica and Bilbo the cat could not remain in my life for long, before i was ready to leave them again and again. But trains; they were more like me now and I was more like them, and in that spirit I was headed for the first time to the East.

Leaving.

I said goodbye to Monica between the grandmothers completing of the paper and the children going off to school. The residual rain seemed to bring on a certain long awaited serenity that day, and even Bilbo the cat could not muster the energy to open his eyes for the coming day. Our goodbye was brief and unemotional and was almost formal, and even Grandmother would not let up on the paper. Bilbo the cat seemed more responsive to my leaving, and even honored me with one eye slightly open, as if his sorrow was to remain in slumber for now, and perhaps he would be willing someday to receive me again.

East

The declaration of my leaving came on a cold and rainy night far from the cessation of a stubborn and lingering storm which would stay on longer than expected and did not make matters any more easy for me. Of course it was not a good time to leave, and Monica knew this and held on to the reasoning of the storm which seemed to have taken her side of things. My mind was set and there was no turning back. I only hoped that the roads were still open the next day so that i would make the afternoon train going East. There was a morning bus, usually on schedule that would get me into town, and still provide me time for a last minute coffee in my favorite cafe, which was directly across the street from the aged train station.
The next morning I had a brief breakfast with Grandmother who was more occupied with the newspaper, as she held the towering paper with both hands and sneaking her coffee with a swift gesture,so as not to lose her place. Monica was in the next room preparing the girls for school and Bilbo the cat was laying at his usual spot,facing the front door with a slight break in his eye,peering out to the sparse light left over from the night storm.

The Tear

She was clutching the Bible with both hands,pressing the tarnished cover like a slow and deliberate squeeze, to the point that even her gentle white hands took a blue like appearance. She looked stressed and absolute as she stared out toward the pictured wall that lay before her. I gently sat next to her and asked if everything was alright. she continued with that stare, as though there was something there of interest, and for a moment i thought she had become lost in some other place, some other time , where no one could touch her. I placed my hand over hers, and with a whisper told her that it was ok, that whatever she was feeling was ok and that she need not worry, no matter what it was, that all will be ok. She turned to me and with a glimmer of an expected smile, there I saw a slight tear coming down her right eye.
I thought this might be my last day at Monica's house. These rather voluntary occurrences out of nowhere, that seem to rattle the peace I had been seeking, seem with everyday to get worse, and my wanting to leave has already been delayed not so much by the people around me, as by the utter beauty of the place, which does not make it any easier. I was determined that night to start packing and make arrangements towards leaving. Of course i would need to make an announcement to Monica and her family, and not to forget good old Bilbo the cat, and my new companion Antonio, who up till now has entrusted me to maintain the command of our upstairs castle.

The Bible

The next morning, I was surprised not to hear the early call of the Rooster, nor the grandmother fidgeting in the kitchen with her coffee preparation which had become an anticipated ritual. i did not hear much of anything, except for the wet ruffle of rain drenched leaves, soaked by the previous un expected storm, which brought more rain then needed that year, to the point that the local farmers worried wrinkle, focused more on up coming floods than the long anticipated drought which never came. I saw that the cat had left, with only a slight wrinkle on the edge of the bed; a reminder of her quick visit, and good old Antonio was still there, looking a little more cheerful than the night before with his hat placed in proper position and even his predicted smile returned, so that somehow things felt like they were returning to normal. there was the whole issue of the priest, which up to now I had no answer. Monica was somewhat vague if not stringent on her take of the matter. She seemed like she wanted to brush it under the table; The whole matter of my seeing him at the edge of the olive grove, and how he took swift flight the moment he noticed me there. And than why did he leave his good Bible there like that; something so sacred and personal, and though perhaps worn and battered by the use of time, one would think he would never lose his clutch over that good book.
I assumed it was just another lazy day in the village, and took to heart that i was so lucky to be there. Of course I knew cities more than villages, and even had some bright moments when I longed for the rush of energy and excitement that my so called city offered. I could very easily fall into the groove here and melt into the scenery, I thought. Who knows, perhaps meet a local girl and raise a family. of course in these parts meeting a local girl, really is, meeting the whole family, and we are not talking nuclear size here, not to mention that the whole village would rise to the occasion, as well as our good natured priest.
I decided to venture out and see what is happening. i came down from my small castle and found Bilbo the cat lying in the middle of the waiting room, just outside the kitchen entrance. I peered into the kitchen and saw the Grandmother,with her back turned towards me, sitting with the daily paper opened with both hands. Her tiny head was nodding back and forward, focusing intently on the printed word. I did not want to disturb her, so I moved into the piano room, and saw Monica sitting on the sofa, slightly curled into herself with an intense look on her face; She was clutching the closed Bible with both hands, and seemed to pressing against its cover on both ends.