Summer Solstice - Revisited

 

Summer Solstice...Revisited

by Peter Green

David stood on the edge of the massive stone sculptures. He marvelled at their existence. He wasn't alone. Mankind had been trying for centuries to apply sense, reason, and method, behind the meticulously placed boulders, thousands of years old. It appeared simple enough. A circle of stone and boulders positioned helter skelter in a farmers field. That is where the simplicity ends. Where was the stone hauled from? What engineering creativity was used to move the boulders into place? What instrumentation was devised to place them so specifically at certain angles and distances apart? What beautiful mind had modeled this in their brain? And finally...why?

David meandered through the ancient monolyths, with the other admirers. He found himself at the centre of the imposing circle of gray slabs. He peered upwards through the rock portal, into eternal blue sky. It reminded David of an endless love. A never ending commitment. The sun slowly, patiently, traversed overhead, into position. Standing in the same spot he did thirty years ago, the anticipation of the moment overwhelmed David. He felt as small and insignificant as he had at the age of 20. And today, he felt as nervous, edgy, and unsure of himself as he did then.

It really was a mystery to David why he was standing here right now. He could not understand what brought him here. Why was he peering into the sky...watching the sun slide across the blue canvass above? What could he ever hope to achieve by being here today? Thirty years to the day when he became a man, fell in love, and let his love slip away...for eternity.

He should have been able to forget. He should have been able to let go. He should have moved on. But he didn't. He couldn't. He wouldn't let himself. She was with him everyday.

Louise.

An inexplicable force pulled David from his home. From his work. From his family and friends. Here. To this place. This place of mystery, wonder, history, and beauty. Was it a feeling or an urge that guided him here? Was it intuition that grabbed hold of his soul and he simply succumbed to it? Or maybe just blind hope and desperation, a last gasp effort to rediscover what had been missing in his life for thirty years.

Since that night David and Louise had never spoken or exchanged letters.

It was over there.

David put into play all of the events of that day, that night.

It was over there where we slipped out of sight. Past that big rock, into the field and down into the gully, among the thorny bushes.

His mind and body went deeper and deeper into that day. David closed his eyes. He could smell the fields surrounding the stones. He could feel the dampness of the hard rock as he slid his hands over their wind beaten surfaces.

Yes, past that big beautiful rock, into the gully below, and among the thorny rose bushes was where I fell in love, and made love...really made love for the first time.

Her words, softly whispered in his ears, spun over and over like a stylus stuck on vinyl.

“David, you know this will never work...you live over there, in Canada, I live here. We both are going to school...we both have dreams...we both have ambitions...it just won't work...you know that don't you...don't you...?”

He held her in his arms, the moon carressed their bodies, the air was warm. How could he be immersed in such excitement, and be drowned in such despair at the same time? David hung his head in defeat. He could not argue with Louise.

“But let's make a promise to each other David...lets always remember this time...this place...and believe that if it was meant to be...somehow...some day...we will find each other...we will fall into each others arms...and then we will know it was meant to be...promise me that David.”

Her hands ran through his hair, down to his shoulders, and across his back.

A shiver ran through Davids body. It was if she was right here with him right now. He recalled how the softness of her voice tamed him. How her warm touch excited him. How her sweet smell...was it eucalyptus...? Had paralyzed him.

Again, David thought, how could I argue? As Louise stormed into Davids life, she left him reeling. She left him confused. She left him angry. She left him sad.

David sat on their boulder and watched the people mill about. It was a party atmosphere.

It was a Summer Solstice Celebration.

There was a pair of young lovers, college students, so much in lust, hanging from each other, a tangle of arms and legs, tongues and lips and flowing hair. Young children dashed about. Weaving in and out of the boulders, playing tag, laughing and screaming, falling and bouncing back up, with skinned knees and scraped elbows, just as the children of the creators of this wonder must have done a time long ago. Two musicians, guitars slung across their shoulders, strummed and sang. The beautiful sound resonated, boucing off the rock surfaces, escaping as a soft echo into the warm afternoon air. Did the creators intend to have such beautiful accoustics in their living sculpture? A husband and wife, obviously on vacation, co-ordinated nicely in their khaki hats, trousers, and shirts, took turns shooting photos of each other in poses with the stones as if they were live models.

David closed his eyes again and fell back.

How could I have ever let Louise get away? How could I have ever agreed to return to Canada without her? How could I have just bowed my head, smiled, and given her a kiss, then watched her slide into the night. Slide into the night as if we had never met. As if she had never existed.

Some nights, when David was alone, lying awake, staring at the ceiling, he wondered if Louise really existed. Had he somehow made her up? Created his own fantasy? Painted his own portrait of a beautiful woman, and had fallen into his own painting so deep, he began to believe it?

There were no pictures, no letters, no shred of evidence to prove to himself Louise ever existed.

Just his memories.

But yet here he was. Called here by someone...by some unknown force. Why? For what reason?His heart in his throat. Pounding. Alone. Sweat forming on his brow. His mouth dry. Waiting for something. He needed a sign from the gods...a signal...a direction...a voice...

A voice?

Yes...a voice.

David froze...

From behind...

a whisper...

soft...gentle...

a warm touch upon his shoulder...

“Hello David...”

And the intoxicating aroma of eucalyptus...

Reviews

[Edmund Jonah]

What a pity that with such a gift of writing you wrote something that was both obvious and incredible at the same time. While the writing is on the turgid side and overly sentimental, one can see the flair you have of putting words together. This may be treated as a great exercise. It could also be shelved to form part of a novel you will write in the future. In a novel you can bring more motivation to bear and this piece can become more acceptable in a larger framework. Of course, with a bit of pruning.
Good luck and happy writing.