L'Etoile Rose

Chapter 23

He was lying on the damp sand of the night, arms crossed behind his head, still dressed as if for a concert with his finest black jeans, his white shirt making a bright spot in the darkness. " Will you look at this spectacle!" He exclaimed, his eyes fixed on the depths of the dark sky, "how to see that and not believe in God?" And when everyone had sat down to have face to face discussions, and then sing with Laurent's guitar, his shining eyes had crossed mine for a moment, and I had seen how sure he was of himself, proud and happy of his convictions.

Then we had returned to the inn on foot in the night, arm in arm with Anne and Chantal, while behind us followed the boys and Sophie. Not a cat on the road ... Our voices and our laughter seemed to fill the whole space and my heart was filled with the pleasure of being part of a whole group of friends that I felt at that moment sure and faithful. Just arrived, the group had dispersed. "Tomorrow morning, we sleep," Dominique said, returning to his caravan. We will do the sailing course in the afternoon. Good night everybody! And my child's voice had mingled with pleasure with those of others who replied: "Good night, Dominique! See you tomorrow! "

The next day, despite the short night, I got up before the others and I went to the kitchen in the absence of Mrs. Dupeigne to serve myself a cup of coffee, and have an apple. The official time of breakfast having passed, we would have to wait until lunch time to eat something else. With this frugal breakfast, I went to sit on the beach, just across the road in front of the inn, where a few days ago I had fished out a crab with Laurent, while listening to Serge recount his heartaches. I loved these summer mornings, where the heat is still soft and the colors of the water and the sky almost pastel. I had stuck my cup of steaming coffee between two stones, placed my apple in close proximity on my napkin and pulled out of my little backpack my little notebook and a pen.

The heart and the mind still filled with images of last night, I remained for a moment the pen dancing at the end of my fingers, while I looked at the horizon and the free space in front of me. Then I wrote ... a few words, a few lines, my first poem.

It seemed to me that poetry was more natural to me than prose, because the meaning of words were less obvious, more hidden, which suited me better, given the difficulty I had in expressing myself. The prose was too clear, too direct. I could only trace on the paper a few verses, and that was already a lot for me. I had read and re-read my poem, very proud of this little enigmatic text, which said what I had felt without saying it. And then I finished my apple and my coffee which had become cold, with pleasure and excitement. Then I heard through the open window of the inn the piano playing a complicated sonata. It could only have been Laurent! I had picked up my things without a farewell look at the pure landscape surrounding me, and had run to the house.

He had greeted me with a mute smile, without stopping his playing, his long, elegant fingers running over the keys as if it were easy, until I placed open on top of the piano, instead of the score missing, my little notebook.

"In the night, light breeze, so many hours have passed,

 elusive, sweet and expensive,

 like the wind.

to all ages comes the night, unique and clear. "

Aloud, his big brown eyes bent over my poem, he had read my words, and I found that beautiful. We had both laughed, and then he said to me, "Well, there you go! that was good! Write like this every time you feel like it, a little poem or a long text, whatever you want, anything ... just for yourself! And whenever you like the result, you show it to me, okay? "

Then Madame Dupeigne had returned and Laurent had handed me back my notebook and stood up to help her carry her baskets full of provisions.

"It's market day today, the number of tourists is unbelievable! I waited half an hour at the fishmonger's for sliced cod and sardines, we'll grill them. Betty, my dear, do you want to ask Dominique to make a fire, while I prepare the meal? "