As the stone steps meandered down the hill in front of her Celeste paused to look around her and take it all in. The trees and brush all hung close even over the stairs. Above she could hear a train slowly approaching and the rhythmic click clacking, she suddenly remembered, was all in her mind. Just a memory of times long gone.
She slowly walked down the steps, pausing every few steps to listen and try to peer through the brush. So far all was quiet. Just simply quiet in a pleasant way.
Looking down further there was more sunlight and a hint of red! Carefully Celeste finished her descent towards the light. As if out of nowhere the oath opened up to a sunny view of the river. It was amazing!
Celeste stood there so long her legs cramped up in protest. Imagine, fairy tale castle stairs leading here!! 🏞️
“It would be so easy to just sit here.. maybe at least until tomorrow“, Celeste thought out loud. It was such a beautiful hidden peaceful spot.
Sitting her bag down she spots the old blanket from the basement. Why had she kept it? Why couldn’t she just let go? She could just go around the bend in the road and walk away from it all. That blanket was her link back to so much and so little.
That blanket, and the box, the memory of that night sleeping under the bridge.. it all came flooding back. From the cold damp basement to the box and then here at the river. It had been an interesting journey!
As Celeste sat on the steps gazing out over the river she thought about the reporting she had been doing with Allen. He’d shown her a world she’d never known. He’d told her of a quote, “The secret to writing is there is no secret.” by Ralph Fletcher Maybe Allen and Ralph had been right, but she didn’t think so. For Celeste the secret had been opportunity. Locked in the cold dark basement there’s been no opportunity, no pencil, no paper.