Member-only story
Ch 10 — MEMOIR: OLD AGE WAS A FOREIGN COUNTRY. SO WAS FRANCE
The Dungeon Had Shattered My Illusion
Rented sight unseen, the place was a rude awakening. Could I look beyond its confines to the France I’d hoped to find?
Narrow dirt roads and tracks wound through the vineyards surrounding the village. In the mornings, I’d take an entrance to a row of vines and just start walking while sorting out my thoughts — mostly what to do about my new abode. Since a solution wasn’t forthcoming, my thoughts drifted. The days were warm, with the gentle feel of spring sunshine. Life was happening. Fuzzy buds and newly unfurled leaves, brilliantly green and glossy. Mother Nature doing a little polishing. Twitters and chirps in the trees, buzzing in the shrubs.
Wildflowers lined the roadsides, clusters of yellow between the vines. One morning, I saw three scarlet poppies; the next day they’d multiplied, a crimson blaze I could see from a distance. I thought of gathering a bunch to take back to the dungeon, but kept walking.
I passed no one on my walks; if I walked far enough, I no longer saw sheds and outbuildings, or the modern bungalows that dotted the edge of the village. Sometimes, I’d wonder if I was safe. Would I wander a deserted road…
