My Dear Fiona - Chapter 20 And Spirit Makes Three

Stories

I didn’t want to wake Denise the next morning, between the beer and the late night I knew she’d be in a rotten mood if she didn’t get her beauty sleep, so I snuck out as quietly as I could, to get a cup of coffee.

The streets were already filled with music and dancing and the rhythms of the drums, the festival atmosphere rushed me in the middle of the street, and carried me along with it, even a recluse like me.

Life unfolded in all its joy, Fiona, and it looked so effortless, as if all its tribulations and cares were nothing but another performance at the festival.

I had a sudden insight into the lightness of being, which my sister seems to understand so well: you just don’t think about it, you get up, go out and live, that’s it. No expectations, no reservations, no past.

I always thought of living in the now as some sort of gimmick people who have no plans like to pass for life philosophy, and I’m a little embarrassed by that now, when the collective life of Kirkwall flows through me, making me part of everything.

The rhythm of the drums induced some sort of trance, muffling the other sounds and sharpening my hearing and I got a little lightheaded from the bright light and the sounds, so I grabbed an outdoor table at the corner cafe, ordered an espresso and closed my eyes to clear my head.