Vacation

They say, there's nothing like a vacation to clear the mind and since mine had been all over the place lately, I decided it was time for me to take one. I can't even remember the last time I've been on a real vacation. Sure, my work and other interests have taken me places, but a real genuine nothing-is-expected-of-me vacation has been rare in my life.
I could even smell it in the air that this was the perfect time for it and the south east of France would be my destination.

I'd never been here before, but in my mind it has always been a place of wonder, where time stood still in the cracks of the old buildings breathing their history in the ears of anyone willing to listen, wandering the alleys of cities home to the forgotten.
Forgotten, a word that my mind turns into the pure sensation of ecstasy. How I would love to be forgotten, the world passing me by and leaving me to drown in the peace and quiet still offered daily by those whispering alley voices, almost begging me to surrender to them.

But, like I said, I'd never been here before and my mind is not always the most reliable judge of reality. There's a certain heat in the air here that seems to slow people down, though it's incapable of keeping them from constantly moving. So many of them crawling through the streets utterly ignorant of all the ones who've walked before them. If there ever were voices of wisdom enchanting these alleys, they've slowly faded from loneliness. It are the souls no longer present that are forgotten here, not the creatures inhabiting these cities.

Ever since I've arrived here, I, too, can feel the heat constantly accompanying me, nicely wrapped around my body, even slowing down my mind. There are moments I truly believe that this could be what peace and quiet actually feels like.
I've been here for two weeks now and although I still very much enjoy the way it makes me feel, I can also sense the moments it's slowly losing its grip on me. Fragments of darkness slip in, reminding me of all the sweet things I'm missing out of. They make me smile as I take them as a sign that I'm almost ready to go home again.

"This place can really make you smile, can't it?"

For a moment I'm puzzled whether it's a voice in my head, but looking at the enormous smile directly facing me from the man standing next to me, I doubt I'd be so lucky. My smile wasn't an invitation for a conversation. Then again, maybe there's no harm in indulging my darkness just a tiny bit.

"It most definitely can. This is one of the most amazing views I've ever seen in my life."

The view really is amazing, clear blue ocean as far the eye can reach, kissing a cloudless sky at the horizon. When you look very closely, you can even be found guilty of voyeurism by the local ocean life.

"I come here every morning, it reminds me of how lucky I am. Do you live around here?", the man asks. He still has this ridiculously big smile covering his entire face.

"No, I'm just here on vacation, enjoying the quiet life as long as I can."

I try to keep a smile, but I don't want to seem like I'm faking it. My hand places itself into my pocket as if it's trying to find a nice relaxing place to lay itself down and enjoy the view in its own way. Only that's not it, is it? Suddenly, I realize I'm smiling again. I can almost smell the wood from the handle of the knife in my hand, I can feel my fingers play with its shape and I can sense the blade begging me to caress his body and cover its cold steel in his warm blood.

"Would you like to join me for a drink?"

I can hear his nerves acting up in the tone of his voice. He must have picked up on my longing smile and the lust my eyes are most definitely projecting right now. I remind myself I'm on vacation, there is only looking, not touching. The fantasy played out in front of my eyes, yet not the fulfillment of the deed itself. Knowing I'm letting him go, reduces my smile without any effort necessary from my part.

"Thank you for the offer, but no, I should really be heading back to my hotel. Enjoy the rest of your day."

I can see the disappointment in his eyes, yet his smile is unwilling to reduce by even an inch. He wishes me the same, I turn around, feel my body hesitating for a moment and then I part.

Only a few more days left in this paradise, a few more days to feel the peace and quiet I yearned for when I decided to come here. Now, all I'm yearning for is my sweet indulging life at home. I guess, there really is nothing like a vacation to clear the mind.

Truth

The truth has been on my mind a lot lately. For some mystical reason it scares me to death, which is very ironical in my case.

"What is it in us that seeks the truth? Is it our minds or is it our hearts?"
That quote keeps begging my ego to pay attention to it. But why? Is the truth that my mind perceives not the same as the one that my heart feels?

During confusing times like these, I like going down to the cemetery and visit the graves of all the people I once knew. That's why I'm here right now. They may not talk back to me or provide me with any insights that are not my own, but being here soothes my mind and opens my heart. If there would be such a place where these two could wage their war, it would be here.

"He was a friend of yours?", a strange voice suddenly asks.
It's an elderly woman, probably his mother. She struggles with her balance while she kneels by the grave to lay down some flowers. I help her up again and we share a smile of compassion that we both seem to appreciate.

"No, I only knew him briefly. In that short time, though, I loved him for his strength and his good heart. He was ..." I pause for a minute and she completes my sentence "taken away from us too quickly."

All I can do is nod in agreement. She wasn't there that night, but he really was.

"He was my son.", she continues.

I was right. I never know them for very long, but I never forget their faces either.

I look at the old woman's tears and I wonder what it is about the truth that scares me so much. I guess the truth could change everything. She's a sweet, gentle woman now, but if she knew only a tiny portion of the truth, she wouldn't smile, but scream at me. She wouldn't thank me, but condemn me to hell and if it were in her power, she would even send me there herself. The truth could change everything and I guess my heart feels it, while my mind is still convinced that it will never see the light of day.

I overlook the cemetery, proud of all the graves that are there because of me and I realize that my heart is right, there are some truths that even the grave cannot keep buried forever.

Confession

I don't know what led me here ...

I remember being drawn to this massive light coming from a door guarding the house of God. As if the whole city had conspired into dimming its lights, just so this church, at this moment, would catch my eye.

I remember walking through it. Familiar looks on unfamiliar faces tried to find my eyes, but I just fled to the sympathy of the tiles from the floor carrying my weight, while walking to the third row. There was one seat left between an old man who was silently praying and a middle-aged insecure woman who seemed to believe that she could hide behind a constant smile. I consider myself a good person, so I held up her illusion, gave her a smile and sat down on the third seat in the third row.

I remember that only a few minutes later, the ceremony started. There was lots of singing, group praying and preaching. None really appealed to me. Singing has never been my strong suit, that's why I'm a firm believer of only singing in the shower or when I'm alone in the car. Group praying always reminds me of a secret sect that slowly robs you of your own voice and preaching ... let's just say the words never stuck.

At the end of the ceremony, though, the priest stepped up to the microphone for a final announcement. The tone of his voice suddenly made me feel uneasy and his words glued me to my chair as he uttered them looking straight at me: "For those willing, I will be at this side of the church taking confessions." Could he have really been talking to me? The curiosity of my ego just had to find out.

And here I am, sitting eye to eye with a priest.

"Maybe it's easier if you start talking about why you think you had to come over here. Anything you want to say, anything at all, God will absolve you from it and it will no longer be your burden to carry."

Although I know it would be for many, my actions have never been a burden to me. I do like, however, how the words "God will absolve you" keep echoing in my head. My ego begs me not to walk away from the one on one attention it's getting right now, so I decide to stay in the conversation.

"I might have hurt some people in the past."

"Yes ...", the priest whispers with a voice hungry for more.

"And I probably told some lies.", I try to conclude.

The priest smiles for a moment as if he can look through me eyes, right down to my soul and in that moment, I feel connected with him through the words he leaves unspoken.
He stands up, places his hands on my head and starts to whisper a prayer. While he takes his seat again, he says "Now take this candle, place it at the altar and give thanks. Have faith that all is forgiven and you can start with a clean slate."

I give him a graceful nod, take the candle and make my way to the altar. What should I give thanks for? Suddenly, I hear the sirens outside the church. The intensity of the confession must have blocked them out, since they don't sound like they're just getting here.

Now, I remember what led me here ...