Grow Old Together

Side by side, we sat together on the riverbank. It was a perfect summer day, a cool breeze taking the edge off the heat. She turned, looked at me, and I knew then. I saw then the life we could have together, a perfect life.

I could live with her, here in this valley, down by this river. We could live together, love together, have children and grow old together, live a simple straightforward life. It would not be a life free from troubles; no life is ever free from troubles. Together, though, we would be able to face all that a capricious fate threw at us. We would stand together; both against the world and with the world. It would be a good life. I would have the love of a good woman, and no-one could wish for more.

I saw that all in one turn of her head as a butterfly flickered past behind her and she stroked the grass as though it was the fur of some well-loved pet. I knew we could lie down together in that grass she seemed to be preparing for us to lie in and the contract would be sealed. We would have our lives together from now until the end and everything could be all I ever wanted.

She knew though, moments later, that the next morning she would wake up and I would be gone.

It was not that I didn’t want that life she offered me, I could think of nothing better, nothing I would rather have. Nothing except that desire I had to see what lay over the next hill and the knowledge that if I stayed here, in this valley with her, I would never have the need to find out. That each night, after we’d put the children to bed, I would come out to this riverbank and stare over at that hill in the moonlight and the not knowing what lay beyond it would kill me in a way that the heartbreak from leaving her behind never could.