If summer comes, can winter be far behind?
♫ There’s a sad sort of clanging from the clocks in the Hall
And the bells in the Steeple too ♫
The Road stretched in front of her, winding, twisting, interminable as it bent in the distance.
While the path directly ahead was full of pebbles and stones that would crunch satisfactorily when she walked on them, she knew large obstacles lay ahead and she was scared.
She dared not turn around, for she knew that just a glance of what was behind her would reduce her to tears, and perhaps prevent her from even getting started.
She was going away.
Away from that back galli that she never truly appreciated, away from the grocer’s she always hated walking to, away from her home and parents.
Panic rose in her as she realise how much she had left to be said and done.
Had she stared at every little thing in her room, the kitchen, her parents room so she could commit every single detail to memory?
The lure of her comfortable summers spent watching TV, those lovely evenings spent watching some movie three weeks too late over pasta with her parents and sister was strong, but she grit her teeth, swung her backpack over her shoulder and stepped onto the gravel.
Behind her, they all watched in silence as her tiny self disappeared round the bend.
PS The image used above is a winding country lane in Perugia, Italy (oh yeah, I went there :P)