The sun shone brightly from its lofty perch atop the high, clear blue sky. A few geese, in perfect V formation, cut the field of blue that stretched above the bustling Canadian capital, Ottawa, which sat below the peaceful park perched atop the hill where I sat. I could see the great open market in the center of Ottawa and the government spires. The market was filled with people, who appeared as tiny ants to me, hustling from tent to tent. I had explored the ByWard Market a few days before. It was a wonderful place, filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, the smells of wondrous bistros, open air cafes, and endless eclectic shops.
I sighed. It was so peaceful here in the little town of Hull, a few miles across the Ottawa River from the gorgeous capital, that I never wanted to leave. The people were friendly. The atmosphere was relaxed, almost Bohemian, and the region was clean and a flat-out sight to behold. Much different and much less crowded than New York City. The United States seemed like a totally different world. Foreign to this place, even though it was only about a hundred miles away.
It didn't help that I was involved in a long distance romance, and that I would be leaving my new found love to return to the madhouse, away from this peaceful, relaxing escape.
"Magnifique journée, n'est-ce pas?" an elderly man on the bench next to me said softly.
"Excuse me?" I said. I always felt a bit sheepish explaining I was an American and that I didn't speak French. "I'm sorry, but I'm from the States... "
"Ah... " the man nodded, a gleam in his eyes, "Oui, this is no problem. Most of us from Quebec have learned to speak English. We are the last bastion of French culture in the country. I said that it is a beautiful day. Do you not agree?"
"Oh, yes, of course. It's absolutely lovely. Like a painting. I love the French culture in this area, it is very endearing and unique."
"Well, yes, but I, like many from Quebec, think we should be a separate nation. We should be able to celebrate and promote our heritage. Most of the rest of the country is dominated by the English language and English customs. But, we have adapted so we can communicate with everyone else in North America."
"Except for the street signs." I said.
"Yes," he nodded, "those are still in French, and I hope they stay that way."
"Me too." I agreed. "It's not that hard, even for an American like me, to get around, and everyone here seems so friendly and helpful."
He chuckled and looked out over the vista. "Indeed. It seems that way. Most people are pleasant, but there are those in any culture that are rotten apples."
"Of course, and there seem to be a lot of rotten apples in the Big Apple. But a lot of great people too."
"Oh, are you from New York?" he asked, seemingly very interested.
"Oui!" I answered. He smiled approvingly.
"I love New York City. It is where I met the love of my life." he said with a far off look in his eyes.
"Oh?"
"Yes. I used to go to Syracuse, twice a year. A lot of people from this region do. It's only about 80 miles across the border, and the taxes down there are so much less, we buy clothes and other goods at the outlets there."
"Yes, there is some great shopping in Syracuse."
"One time, in the early 70's, I ventured to New York City. To see the sights. Visit Broadway and see a show. Make a vacation of it, you know."
"The city does live up to its description. It never sleeps. Sometimes I wish it would take a nap, though." I said. "But there is definitely always something to do. How did you meet your great love?"
"At a hot dog cart in Central Park, of all places."
"Really?"
"Oui. She was very beautiful and I was waiting behind her. When she left with her purchase, she dropped a $20 bill. I picked it up and gave it to her."
"Wasn't that gallant, and unusual in New York. People are always so busy, coming and going."
"That is what she said. She joked that I had to be a foreigner. I told her I worked for the Canadian government and was visiting on vacation. She bought me a hot dog and we shared lunch in the park. That is such a grand, beautiful park."
"Yes, it is. But I love this little park."
"Oui, me as well. I come here every day now, and I often think of that day."
"I will miss this park, when I go back in a few days. Honestly, I don't want to go. I have met a great person who lives here, that's who I am staying with, and I think we are falling in love as well."
"Ah," he nodded sadly, "that is tough. That explains the sadness in your eyes on such a magnificent day. Long distance relationships, even when you are only separated by a few hundred miles, is a tough business. An ordeal really. You have distinct, completely distant lives. All you want is to see them and be with them. You are forced apart for long spans of time. You have to navigate family and business obligations to steal a few minutes together."
"Oui... " I sighed, my body deflating. I did not want to think about it. "How did you cope with it?"
"Oh, not well I guess. We dealt with it for 2 long years. We met every other month in Syracuse. She came here a few times and I stayed with her on my vacations. It was a nightmare at times. The border patrol started hassling us and looking at us funny for going back and forth so much. Your border patrol is very suspicious of everything. I spent several hours being questioned by them as they rifled through my stuff on more than a few occasions. It was not pleasant, I can tell you. It became expensive, meeting and staying in hotels on weekends so often, traveling back and forth. Emotionally, though, was the worst. Forget money and time wasted, it became harder and harder to tear ourselves apart time and time again."
I could feel my throat tighten. I actually fought back tears at the thought of it all. This was a young, budding relationship I was getting involved in, but I didn't want it to end, it felt so right. I also didn't want to go through the ordeal this gentle man had just described to me, and that type of trouble was all that extending this romance offered. We could end it, and be miserable, perhaps missing out on the greatest chance at happiness in our lives, or continue on and fight the inevitable heartache associated with a long distance affair.
I looked out over the great, welcoming city. "How did your romance end?" I asked. "If it's not too painful for you to share." I added.
"No, not at all. Why don't you ask my love for yourself!" he smiled. "Here she comes now. You see, some things are worth fighting for."
An elegant woman with a joyous smile approached us. "Magnifique journée, Je t'aime." she said to him as she kissed him on the cheek and they hugged. 'It is another beautiful damned day."
She sat next to him and they held hands.
"It is a beautiful day indeed." I agreed.
If you would like to read more articles like this or on a wide range of topics please visit: http://mimispeaks.blogspot.com/2013/04/a-writers-niche-and-her-chit-chat-over.html Miriam B. Medina loves to write and at length too. So I suggest you find yourself a comfortable chair, and while you are at it, grab a steaming hot cup of coffee and a bagel with cream cheese and you will be all set to settle down for a while. Happy reading.
No comments:
Post a Comment