The Path Beyond the Fence

The air was crisp. The clouds blanketed the sky, fractured and fragmented by rays of light which seeped like honey over the silent hills. The dew drenched grass seemed to shimmer as the car pulled up by the pavement. I walked down the gravel path, treading lightly, afraid of the noise which complemented my presence. I had that feeling in my chest again. It was as though the earth’s gravity was pulling on my legs, while the rest of my body yearned to float off into the nothingness. The rest of the group moved slowly ahead of me. I purposefully hung back, afraid that being in front would mean I’d have to dictate the pace.

We came to a stop, and moments later the high pitched sound of bagpipes belted out The Flower of Scotland. Apart from a few sobs, the group remained silent, each enveloped by a quandary of thoughts and emotions. I felt the melody resonate deep inside me, a soundtrack to my own thoughts. And then it stopped.

As if breaking from a trance, I looked around me, as people’s eyes all fixed on one place. As I gripped my mother’s arm, my girlfriend gripped mine, completing a chain of comfort that stirred through the group like a somber Mexican wave.

Called to the center of the group, a few of us broke contact, I among them. We took our places as each was given a length dusty golden rope. Taking grip just below a coarse knot, my hands rubbed against the cruel abrasiveness.

A few words were said, yet no one seemed to hear them. And just then, the sun broke through the clouds, showering rays of light onto the grayness below. The shadows which surrounded us frantically rushed to escape the blanket of light, finding refuge behind the surrounding trees and stones. The warmth was welcomed…

“Come on lads… Slowly now”. I started to think the words seemed too simple to direct an action of such meaning, however, my thoughts were interrupted by the surprising weight that started to pull back at the end of the rope. I was told to let the rope slip through my hand in a slow controlled motion, but I found myself struggling to keep hold, locked in a tug of war with an opponent who had already lost. Seconds later, it was done and the sun was gone.

A few formalities later and the group retraced their route back to their row of cars. Moving freely, heels penetrated the gravel below, and the occasional smile broke through cracked lips. Breathing in, the crisp air finally seemed to reach deprived areas of my lungs. Engines revved, car doors slammed shut.