the simple life

I have gone from one extreme to another.

By plane and train, I have gone from the big cities of Toronto and Paris to a small town in the South of France.

After a year of running on overdrive, I feel as if I've finally found my brakes.

I am alone, in a four floored, ancient, 800 year old house. It's just me and the big brown beams that pass over my head, the stone walls, the creaking staircases and the memories of my past summers here. Even the cobble stoned streets are silent, the swarms of summer visitors still yet to come. As I wait for a computer, my only source of modern technology is the little ghetto blaster I play my CDs in.

When I first arrived I didn't know what to do with myself. I fell alseep to music playing outloud so I wouldn't have to face the silence. I paced the house nervously, hovering around the heater while the rain beat down outside. At times I thought I might go mad. One night my foot slipped on the steep wooden staircase, and I went tumbling down a flight of stairs until my elbows smashed against the wood floor. I sat in a prayer like position, sobbing into the silence for what seemed like hours. The pain much deeper than the bruises I was left with. I cried because there was no one to hear my fall. Because there was no one there to care if I broke a bone or not. Deep sobs escaped my body until I was left empty. I felt that there was no warmth in my world, that there was nowhere I could go and not feel helplessly alone. As if I had wanted independance so badly that I had pushed everything and everyone away from myself.

But what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. I woke up the next day up weak and puffy eyed, and pushed my body into the shower while the rain beat down outside. I forced myself to see the postive side of the situation, and realize the cleansing I was going through.

Soon, bitter loneliness turned into sweet solitude.

Every day my walks grow longer, and nature embraces me. I breathe in country air, and lift my arms in amazement every time the sun hits my face. The rolling hills are slowly taking on a sweet summer sunshine, and I awe at their golden hue.

Everywhere is green, the air laced with the perfume of sweet flowers, honey suckles and freshly mown grass.

The villagers smile more at me everyday, and old friendships take off where we left them.

I have salvaged the two best comforters to the bedroom upstairs, and sleep late into the afternoon, sleeping more than I have in years. The bags under my eyes grow more faint, and my skin takes on a healthier hue as the days go by.

Today I had planned on going into the city, but decided it would be a shame to go just as I have discovered tranquility and nature.

I also managed to secure for myself a job cleaning out cabins, once a week for two months down at a camp site. It is only a few euros, but all other jobs have been taken by locals, and both restaurants are already over staffed.

I am taking in every moment at a time. I will be working through next summer before I go back to school, and feel the need to savour these months.

I have so much more to say, so many thoughts running through my head, so many small accounts to make, but I will spare you. There will be more to come.

The night air is warm tonight, and I feel I must bask in it.