FAMILY REUNION

The view is of rolling farmland where at this time of the year the wheat is yellowing. The heavy rainsqualls of a few days ago have, in places, flattened the stalks. Natural crop-circles, I think, showing the dynamic brush strokes of gusting winds. The room faces east, as I requested, in fact, reception told me, all guestrooms face east as the western part of the building, facing the road to Saint-R, is used for administrative purposes and staff quarters. To me the east symbolises creativity and spiritual renewal, and I want to be open and fully accessible to these influences. What’s more, I prefer the morning sun to gently warm up my room and supplant its night smells, rather than the day’s heat being locked in by the fiery last rays. Isn't that what those travelling to India of old wanted—if they could afford it that is—port out, starboard home! POSH! During the hot traverse of the Red Sea that would give them the morning sun through the porthole.

The autumnal morning sun in this part of France is still strong and when the first rays reach the bed I fairly quickly have to kick the duvet off. Housekeeping told me to close the shutters at night, but I like to gaze at the night sky when I can't sleep, wondering who else is awake, who else is looking, waiting for a shooting star, or for the hooting of the distant owl. Have I been here that long already? Have I started to distinguish a pattern in the foraging sorties of the local barn owl? Have I really heard an owl? Would love to see this one—if it indeed is one. Would love to get close to her—it most likely is a female, they are so much easier to get along with than males. Most of my friends, the ones with whom I have established a really deep contact, are female.

'Nonsense,' she had said, 'bullshit, those are not friends, they are lovers and wannabe lovers and ex-lovers. As soon as there are sexual undercurrents, friendship is marginalised.'

I had answered that she was wrong. 'Sexual stimulation is only a part of the relationship. It is only its embellishment. Spiritual and emotional contact lies at the foundation and provides the structural strength.'

'Who are you trying to impress,' she countered, 'every attractive woman you meet feels that you immediately sniff her out, carnally so, before you have even spoken a single word. Don't even try to deny it, I know you from the first sniff to the consummation… The talking, or spiritual and emotional contact as you call it, is the embellishment… It really is,' her voice had taken on a soft longing timbre, 'it does lift the sexual act to greater and more beautiful heights, but it is sex you're after!' She was quiet for a moment. 'I know the power of your words, I remember the way you allayed my vexation about premarital sex, and you being married at that. You said: it's so nice to be desired! That made me feel so incredibly good. It moreover put the blame for the situation outside of me, I am being desired, what can I do!'

She is of course right, at least partly, but I will not admit it.

But where is she anyway and what am I doing here…? Maybe I should call her, ask when she will join me here. This, as far as I remember, is an institute for a French immersion course. It was her idea to enrol and I was to come along for fun. But until now I have not discovered any classrooms and the other guests I see during lunch all seem to be fluent French speakers…

'Why do you call me in the middle of the night', she asks when I finally get through.

Now I am really confused… middle of the night… but the sun is still shining… and according to my watch it's late afternoon.

'Darling, I am here in H, I am six time zones, that is six hours, ahead of you, you woke me from a deep sleep. Don't call me again at this hour, please.' And then she disconnects.

She is still in H, now I understand. That explains her absence, and of course she would be sleeping already. I suddenly feel so alone. And with the understanding comes the realisation that the time gap has widened  the emotional distance between us. A cold band of fear encircles my heart, intensifying my dread of losing her, of estrangement, of dislike replacing our love.

Staring at the night sky and imagining that she is already preparing breakfast, or opening the first of the many meetings of the day, brings on the vision of a dispassionate distant lover.

Love, shouldn't you have been here with me? I seem to remember having booked a double room. I am so confused… and the right side of my face hurts, it affects my hearing. Tomorrow I will have to check the booking and find out how long I have been here. And especially why I'm here.

Anybody out there willing to give me an advance so that I can finish the novel…? 
 Just a thought. ..!