The Brief Encounter......

No, am not referring to the movie classic, nor any anything to do with sexual escapades of the anonymous variety. I am talking about those strangers who cross our paths. Those rare souls who make in indelible difference to our lives. They seldom know that, since we never see them again. I have had such people in my life. I thought I would honor them in my new blog. So, you should consider this the beginning of The Brief Encounter Series.

It was the Summer of 1987. I was down from Oxford University, the three month Summer vacation loomed long ahead of me. I had a fallen in love for the first time with an American Guy. I did not know it until he left. He returned to New York once he completed his year abroad at my college, Worcester. But, he is not the focus of this tale. He certainly motivated me to find employment to save money to pay for that flight to New York. That would have been two firsts for me that Summer. I felt alive. I was young. I felt love. It was new, and there it was sitting there in my heart.

I never made it to New York that Summer. Life is like that. You plan , but something changes your course in life. However, in eager haste to secure enough funds to pay for this epic journey I needed work.We always spent school holidays in Sussex, England, away from London where I also lived. I was grew up in London and Sussex. I love the sea and that passion was born walking along the stony beaches of Southern England my entire childhood.

There was a private old peoples home in Church Norton. Norton Priory was the name of the home. Beyond its garden walls lay the sea. The image posted above is Norton beach. The beach is white with well sea worn stones. The big gray skies and gray blue ocean is vast.There is an estuary behind you if you stood facing this seascape. It is a haven for all brands of wild life.The sun sets behind tall Pine trees. The marsh reeds sway softly in the sea breeze in the golden half light of dusk.

I spent that summer working in Norton Priory. I walked there across corn fields, down the tree lined paths toward the driveway leading to this old mansion. I put on my apron and took the morning coffees to the residents. My job was to chat and entertain. I think chatting was therapy and I was the therapy.

One of the residents was a ballerina. I no longer remember her name. I will call her The Ballerina. Every morning I would find her sitting at the end of her bed smoking a cigarette. She wore a heavey plaid limber jack shirt. I think it was red. And, soft khaki pants. Heavy black rimmed glasses framed her sallow face. Her hair was white and tousled. A glass of good whiskey was always in her hand.

She was looking out of the window one morning. The sun was bright out side.  She  turned toward me. She was a silhouette against the light. She studied me. I smiled. I met her gaze without blinking.There we were facing each other in silence.

"You are young, she said, croaking the words out in that voice only booze and smoking could create.

'You have your whole life ahead of you', she said.She said nothing.Took a long draw on her cigarette. Then took a long sip of Whiskey and coughed.

"I have some advice for you. You can see am an old woman. I lived my life. I lived the life I wanted. I was a ballerina. That was my life. I loved it.The key is I LIVED that life.The one I wanted. I did it. So, here I am a drunk. I know it. I look out at the window onto the gardens, beyond that lies the ocean.I will never leave this room , nor see that ocean. I will die here. I am okay with that. Do you understand that?. I am okay with that. Why?, because I got to be me in my life. I have no regrets. When I retired from the ballet my life was over. It was done. But, I lived!", she said. She was pensive for a moment.Took another long drink, drew on her cigarette. Blew out the smoke. She looked at me steadily.

"You are young.You must live YOUR life. It does not matter what anyone has to say about it. It is yours and one day you will be where I am. So, will those who pass comment on others lives. None of it matters. The only thing that counts is that you just live Your life, no one elses , yours. You will be okay. I am", she said. The room fell silent. She drew on her cigarette.

"Okay, will do", I said.

She turned and looked out her of her bedroom window onto the Gardens. Beyond which lay the ocean that she would never see.

peace.