Thursday, June 17, 2010

On the road again

I absolutely love walking up to the highway at night.

At the moment it's really cold, really overcast and really, really dark. If I switch the torch off and press pause on whatever SlowTV lecture I'm listening to, I could almost believe I was walled up in a tomb somewhere. It's silent, chilly and calm as death. Every so often a low and menacing rumble can be heard, and it's not until you can discern the tiny red flashing lights way up high or the weak reflections of the headlights that you can tell whether it's from a plane or a truck.

Tonight the moon smiled out at me like a Cheshire cat, wide grin and no substance. It shimmered through the cloud, seeming to dance around in the sky, peeking out from behind tree branches. As I climbed the steep hill I could feel its laughter upon my back. Looking out halfway up the hill it was the only visible light, even the resort's luminescence was swallowed up by the thick night. The sparkle from the moon's teeth eerily highlighted some menacing clouds moving in, and I imagined myself treading water in the middle of the ocean, the waters calm and ever so dangerous.

Coming back down those clouds rolled up and into the road like a tidal wave in slow motion. I was patiently surrounded, wrapped up and dumped in an exhilarating tackle and then suddenly, they were all behind me, floating off like a dream upon waking.

Some had stayed behind to finish off the cat, and it was all I could do to refrain from constantly looking back over my shoulder, expecting to see that knowing grin right behind me at every step.

Finally I crossed the bridge and the resort held fast against the dark, lit up like a cruise ship in port. Sometimes I can't think of anything better than living here.