Have you ever felt sure of something? I mean, really deep-down sure, not some rational well-thought-out concept, but a cellular knowing? I did once. It all started when I chanced upon a photograph I’d taken of a girl I’d just started seeing. I was sat on a train at the time, cup of max-pax coffee steaming up the window, pulling 6x4s out of the 1-hour photo bag, and there was this grainy black and white of a girl on a covered bridge, big coat and tentative glance, and I recognised her. Not my mind, or my memory; something else.
“Oh. There’s my wife.”
My mind, which had been scrabbling behind trying to get a view finally pushed it’s way to the front and made its own assessment.
“Oh, bollocks.”
Too late.
Have you ever wanted that surety? The security of really knowing? A break from all that internal conflict, an end to personal doubt. No more ‘is he, isn’t she’, it’s all settled now: breathe a sigh of relief.
The wedding was yesterday. Yeah, you guessed it, I wasn’t there to wish her well. By a strange quirk of Fate (and yes, I do still believe in Fate. What a muppet; go figure…) I found myself in the very place where we parted. In the very place where this photo was taken. (I should point out that I also believe in Cosmic Irony. Eternity can drag if you don’t have a sense of humour, I’m sure.)
What of it? I don’t know, really. No, really, I don’t know what to make of it all, even after all this time. What can you do when the deepest part of you is proved wrong? Move on, I guess. I’m as much a fan of mystery as I am of understanding; it’s just that there are times in my life when I wish they would swap places.
Funny thing is, none of this occurred to me during the day. I’d forgotten completely. Sat on the train, coffee steaming up the window, pulling contact sheets from the envelope, staring out at the sea. No revelations; my heart and body silent on the subject. Mercifully silent. I coursed through the swathes of Cornish sea-mist, all the way back to Tintagel. Full circle. And just as I was lying in bed, headphones on, falling asleep with Kate Bush, it occurred to me. Oh. Charlotte’s married.
No images of veils or dresses, vows or kisses. Just a memory of two grainy black and white images: a girl on a bridge, and a girl walking away.
Remember my cards? 9 of Swords and The Tower.
Posted by: Nadia | 08/08/2006 at 03:16 AM
wow.
and absolutely.
i shall read this item again.
and again.
i know that of which you speak.
Posted by: squizz | 08/10/2006 at 11:20 PM
(salutes the full moon, intuition and cellular knowing [can i steal that phrase?] and cornish sea mist)
Posted by: squizz | 08/10/2006 at 11:23 PM