In my mind’s eye, he looked as I looked when I was younger and also as I imagined I would look as a much older man, wise and fragile, bent, and old with brittle limbs but filled with the knowledge of a long life, devoid of prejudices and empty notions, knowing there is an end and hoping there is a new beginning.
There was a light wind. Things floating, like feathers, dust against a cloud, like the silk of a spiders web with the spider still clinging to it, floating at the whim of the breeze, carried to a destination unknown except by fate, coming to rest somewhere beyond sight. Words spoken from our lips, though no sound uttered. Sometimes people say things that seem so profound there must be a very deep meaning. Sometimes there is no meaning, the words are just things that someone said because they couldn’t bear the deafening roar of the silence. Sometimes the words might be taken as a warning even though they are just the words of things to come, preparation for the opening of a door to pass through into the great light. I was ready.
“Harriet,” he said. “It’s time.”
I saw the woman’s face. I did not know her, yet at the same time I knew her intimately. Then I saw the woman standing before us, beckoning. She was with Hallveig. She was Hallveig. I was filled with joy. All was as it should be. Beyond Hallveig a great crowd of people came into view. I recognized none of them, yet I knew them all. They were all so happy to see me, welcome me, as if I had been away on a long journey and finally returned home.
Then I imagined that I woke and that my face had been flat upon my writing table and my cup of wine had spilled across my parchment, bleeding into the ink of my words, melting them forever.
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