Each day he rose from bed at six, and made them both a cup of tea, “It’s looking cold” he might remark, or “Dawn is still some time away”. He was a man of fixed routine, who liked to live predictably, and somewhere far beyond his gaze, stood the mighty Pyramids, memorials of a passing life: homes to pharaohs long since dead and provisioned for eternity.
Each day, as he had for years, he sat before his office desk, working on electoral roles at town hall offices near his home, watching the names come and go, swept from view by births and deaths and talked about the voting age, and far beyond these offices , the torrent flowed inscrutably between some challenged banks and then became Niagara Falls witnessed by the awestruck crowd who stood and ate their sandwiches
Every year it was the same; he planted out his vegetables, potatoes furthest from the lawn and up against the garden fence, a decent crop of runner beans and always near at hand, pleasing in its growing bulk, grew a marrow, exhibit at the village show. A shadow crossed the window frame, his wife was always at her chores and then, far beyond his view, a mighty iceberg broke away and started slowly on it’s voyage, populated by some birds, and even by a polar bear, watched by a passing ship where tourists stared and sniffed the air, and wondered at it’s growling might
On Sunday’s they might take a walk, depending on the time of year, and nodding at familiar sights, or share a coffee with some friends and talk with them on this and that, and share the news that neighbours share and far away, beyond their sight, the people of the Himalayas, shielded from the bitter cold, raise their eyes in quiet respect and trace the mountains carved by ice and forces from the earth below, on which they stand, respectful of it’s mysteries
And in the evening, home at last,sitting at their evening meal she might raise her eyes to him, and in their depth, for all to see was all the wonder of his life, that she with gentle empathy, soft as the light from shining stars, might share with him her purest gift; a love of rare simplicity,