mountain beach life

 

making tracks again

 

a lens of what might have been/could of Bran & Beth who was what

 

And stood outside the window here we watch them from outside ….

like viewers of an audience 

and let us step inside their scene without much more ado

First from the front glass of his car as the rain hits it and he shuts it off as he pulls into the airport in search of where to park ….perhaps it would be Cardiff ….or somewhere nearby his house, the one with the faded blue car from which he sat talking to what’s her name Beth who was what

There goes Bran as we may remember him. Somewhat rumpled in appearance like a poet might be but still clean and vaguely groomed with a beard not too much overlooked by the shears, perhaps now with some grey which becomes his poetic moss green eyes 

The airport seems to thin like a mist clearing after a wave of people pass through and as it clears away is a haze like the sunburn of glare that stains your eyes she appears like a blaze of gleaming copper rays. Titian hair twisted over a purple scarf she stands stock still as the crowd thins away as if in hesitation 

Neither of them really said the nature of where things stood after all it had been such a long time since they….

“I was afraid you would not be there,” Bran says as he stands there still just staring at her, as if not sure still if it was real.

He thinks she looks afraid as she stands there still looking back at him but then she smiles,

“that is exactly what I was thinking five minutes ago”

I have often asked myself what life might have looked like if …. “Beth”who is what had the chance to be with Bran and dare I let myself go there ….

A familiar walk down a side street

Elbow deep inside the filing cabinet including her head, she was about to call for Sheila, hoping she knew what had become of the file of the recent inventory printouts and the ones Pierre Reaux was requesting. The basement archives were always creepy to have to visit, but it’s where most of the property information was kept and with Grant nowhere around, she had to hunt through endless drawers of files. And Monsieur …. Since he could no longer freely trespass among us…. thanks to new border policies that were more insult than blow Faun thought for the French Canadian and then sighed —well, it was too bad as he kinda grew on her. He wasn’t so bad. Just annoying. Condescending. Often rude. So—what is his charm exactly? He was looking into the mystery person who was murdering the members of the Bishop family. 

He wanted the copies of another set of files that recently had gone missing as it had to do with Arthur’s older legal files and properties 

She heard a sound and assumed it was Sheila and as she turned she said, 

“Shiela, do you have any idea where or why the property lease and titles have suddenly gone missing?”

Faun said all that when she turned and saw who darkened the doorway holding an armful of files 

“Grant ….where have you been and why or how is it you ….” she lost momentum as she stammered limply, “suddenly show up now….?” as the sight of him made her aware of how starved of his very appearance she was. She fell silent and just stared at him. 

“You mean these?” as if this answer now had the more relevance —yet, he held the files in question 

“I have been overseeing since your absence because —believe it or not, our friendly Canadian pointed out awhile back that you likely needed my help whether or not you were aware I was even doing it ….so….um—how long have you been here?”

“No—I was just enjoying your rear view so—no not long….” his slow smile reminded her he was teasing her 

the master of evasions 

bran

 within the darkness of brooding thoughts he calls 

“All these years you have felt so alone, and it kills me you believe that  —all your mystery blog hits Beth—were me, I think about you all the time…”

He says,

“I’ve not forgotten. I’ve been watching the calendar. I think it’ll be all right. Just call if you need me.”

that he remembers —is more than anyone else ever did 

the hours of silence here is madness so I call out of desperation for just a warm familiar voice that once ….provided comfort 

the universe always feels off whenever we fall out of each others orbit