In A Crowded Place

 

Beyond the birch tree woods, near the shores of a quiet lake, there is a cottage where a hermit lives.

He loves the solitude and spends each day in his garden, by the window with watercolors or with a book. There is a cat, a canary, a donkey, and a turtle which keep him company during his self-exile. 

"Oohhh!" The old Hermit stretches while he sits on the side of his cot. "It's that time of year again I see." He sighs heavily. It is that time of year for one day where the Hermit departs his humble abode and ventures into town.

He has done it many times over the years since becoming a hermit. Even so, the anxiety he is experiencing only grows more crippling as the years go by.

Toralei the calico-colored cat rubs against her owner's legs. She senses his stirring anxiety and tries her best to calm his nerves. It helps, but just a little.

"It will be all right, my darling." He cradled Toralei in his arms and showers her with affection. The cat meows with content. "It will all be all right." 

When the Hermit steps out of his cottage, his knees begin to ache. On a heavy sigh, he says, "That means its going to rain some time today." He is right about his statement. Overhead, storm clouds being to slowly move in. Any time it rains, the Hermit's old war wounds flare up, causing him much discomfort. "Such are the perks of growing older." He laughs amusingly to himself.

Before he makes his trip, the Hermits puts the old donkey in her pen. Upset with having to go inside, she brays at her owner, expressing her discontent with his decision. 

 

"Don't be ugly." The Hermit strokes her muzzle gently. "There is rain in the forecast today. I can't leave you out to get soaked. I'll be gone all day." The donkey brays more quietly that time. She understands but it still unhappy. "I'm leaving you in charge today. Keep the others, especially Toralei, in line while I'm gone." The Hermit then departs his cozy homestead.

As he patiently waits at the bus stop, the Hermits mind starts to wander off to a faraway place. Memories from his past come trickling back like forgotten dreams. Every year when he ventures into the city, he thinks back on his days as a soldier. 

 

 

The atrocities of war left the Hermit a broken man. Upon his return home, the Hermit didn't recognize the man he once knew anymore. 

In his early years, when he was naive and full of life, he never thought once to bat his eyes about serving his country. He wore the honor upon his chest like a medal. But when the war claimed his friend's life and the lives of all the other young men, the Hermit became a sullen man. He resented his country and the government who watched them die from the comforts of their mansions, protected by high walls. It left a foul taste in his mouth that never went away.

The Hermit felt like his life and purpose lost its meaning after he outlived his usefulness. So, he decided that only death could bring him absolute peace. 

The following winter after his return home, the Hermit tried to take his life by jumping into a thrashing and freezing river. But there was a higher power at work, which had other plans for the Hermit. His life would not end on that frigid day.

The river carried the Hermit into a lake, where the water spat him out on its shores. It was near that very shore where the Hermit made his homestead. And where he continued to live currently.

With the Hermit at his destination, the memories of his tragic past dissipate and fade into blackness. Since the previous years, the Hermit wonders just how much has changed. 

The town's marketplace is crowded with people and life is bustling. All around him, busy people pass the Hermit by, going nowhere in particular. He takes in every scene and smell that comes his way as he wades through the crowd. 

The baker Marion offers the Hermit a loaf of bread in exchange for half the bouquet of flowers he carries. The Hermit obliges to the trade, thanks the woman, and continues on his way.

 

In a dark alleyway stirs the whispers of secret lovers who can never be together. Betrothed to other partners, they meet in the shadows to reiterate their love for the other each day, but will never run away together.

 

At a produce stall, a middle-aged man and a seventeen-year-old girl get into a nasty argument. She slaps him across the face. In a fit of anger, he pulls out a knife and stabs her dead before a crowd of horrified bystanders. Her young blood soaks the street, mixing with the filth in the gutters.

“At the end of the day, two lives were lost.” The Hermit sighs disappointingly and trudges on ahead. He refuses to gawk and concern himself with matters that distract him from his end goal.

Across the way, two elderly women and a man engage in their gossip for the day. Unbeknownst to any of them, a thief steals out of their purses and pocket. The man slips away quietly into the roaring crow of the marketplace.

Around the corner, three thugs beat down a young father in front of his family. He owes them money, but is unable to repay his debt.

Inside the church, a young couple celebrates the birth of their first child with a baptism.

One street over, some orphaned children finally succumb to starvation. The street cleaners collect their bodies. They will be taken to the dump outside of town.  

 

So many tragedies, so little joy to balance them out. The Hermit presses forward still, paying no mind to the tragedies taking place around him. The sight of them makes his heart ache, but he refuses to falter.

 

At last, the Hermits makes his way to the oldest section of town wherein lies the cemetery. The place of his friend's eternal rest. “I have come to see you again this year, my dear friend.” The Hermit makes himself comfortable before the grave. “I’ve written another story for you. I’ve also brought some homemade wine as well.”

Before he can catch up with his friend, the Hermit tides the headstone as he did every year. He places the flowers, which he grew in his very own garden, before the grave and pours a cup full for his long departed friend.

 

“This story is called Stranded, which is about a stranded sailor on a deserted island." 

When the Hermit finishes his story, he decides to reminisce on their days long past. He misses their schoolboy days, and their childish antics. He misses their adventures and the love he let get away.

“Every day, I wake up cursing the sky. Damn that war! You would still be here." He curses to the sky.

 

Thunder booms loudly in the distance; the visit is at its ends. The Hermit begins to cry. Though it is not his last time at his friend's grave, the Hermit cannot help but become emotional. Surviving the war, living on and growing old makes the Hermit feel as though he's leaving his dear friend behind.

“It never gets any easier as the years pass by.” The Hermit weeps upon his friend's grave. “I just hope we'll meet again in our next life. Rest easily, my friend. Until the next year.” 

 

The marketplace is empty as the Hermit makes his way back to the bus stop.  The last of the stall owners are sweeping, cleaning, and packing up before the rain arrives. 

 

It is quiet. It is peaceful. But it is also lonely. 

More memories from the past begin to flood the Hermit's mind as he makes his way out of town. A part of him truly misses the positive aspects that come with being a part of the town, of a community.  

 

In the spring, wedding bells could be heard all around town almost every single day. The children would pick wildflowers and stir the gophers from their holes. The air would be ripe with the fragrant smells of food and perfumes. When midday rolled around, the town would gather at its center and watch the men and older boys race through town. The women and children would cheer loudly, waving their colorful scarves in the air. The smaller boys who wanted in, sulked at their mother's sides, unable to participate with the others. They never gave up hope though. For they knew that one day, they too would be able to join.

When autumn arrived, the town would gather in the fields to harvest the labors of the year and sing jubilant songs. During the Harvest Festival, singing and dancing could be heard all through the night. The children were permitted to stay up late to enjoy the festivities.  Offerings would be made to the gods, thanking them for another successful harvest year. The festival would close out with the elders and their fables of mighty heroes and monsters.

Once summer circled back around again, the men would take their boats out on the lake and rivers to fish or go boar hunting in the woods outside the town. The women would shear the sheep, spin the thread, dye it, and weave beautiful tapestries. The children would build forts down by the river and play late into the evening. They would catch fireflies in jars but release them when it was time go home. 

But those days are long gone. They've become something like a faint dream to the Hermit. It is time to say goodbye, but only for today. The only life that awaits the Hermit is one of solitude, through the birch tree woods, near the shores of a quiet lake.

As the Hermit steps off the bus, the first few drops of rain strike him upon his head. "I rather enjoyed my trip." He warmly greets Torelei, who has been awaiting at the bus stop for his return. She greets him with a soft meow. “I’ll return, someday.” The wide-eye cat stares at the Hermit in disbelief. “One day.” He says again as he and his cat start up the path home.