A PATH MUCH TRAVELLED

 

A PATH MUCH TRAVELLED

Jose and Juanita went up the hill, via the chalk path which had been worn deep by generations of courting couples in search of a warm, secluded hollow.

 

Juanita’s mother watched them, her arms stilled in soap-suds. Twenty years ago she’d climbed that same path with her boyfriend, and consequently her dreams of escaping her home town had been shattered. She returned to her chores, praying that Juanita would be more careful.

 

Jose’s father, on his boat in the bay, smiled at remembered passion before returning to his nets, hoping the boy would remember to use a condom.

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There are precipitous paths in many places, and this reminded me of one I saw in La Gomera - one of the Canary Islands. That path was a farmer's only access to the road and thence to market, and consisted entirely of steps. It gave me vertigo just looking down from the road!

Thanks to Sandra Crook for the photo, and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  PS Happy Anniversary, Rochelle and Jan W-F.