One Way of Saying Goodbye
The way was long and arduous, even for two young women used to cycling and hiking, so they were not surprised to find an older man stopped on the trail, breathing hard and sweating profusely, leaning against a rock. His backpack with its strapped-on tripod had slipped from one shoulder and was hanging awkwardly.
"Say, you're that fellow that fell in the water at the Diamond Beach," said Ingunn. "What's happening? Are you okay?"
"I didn't fall. I got knocked down," said the fellow, struggling to speak and catch his breath at the same time. "I'm not so old I can't stand up. That bloody wave..."
They comforted him, agreeing he was not so old, appearing delighted that he got his photograph anyway, volunteering to relieve him of his pack and refusing to let his reluctance to do so dissuade them. On reaching the cave, they re-united him with his group and its guide and wished him good luck on the inside.
"But you," said the man, still breathing hard, "where's your group? Where's your guide?"
He had been looking down, rummaging in his re-acquired pack for his camera. He looked up to find his benefactors gone, nowhere in sight.
"I didn't know we could still do that," said Valdis. Deep inside, they looked back at the group the old man had rejoined.
"It wasn't us," said Ingunn. "It was the ice. The cradle calling the baby home."
"I've half a mind to stay," said Valdis.
They listened. What to the ordinary ear was the very light and musical percussion of drops from the scalloped blue ceiling falling into the stream alongside was to them a death knell, a slow tolling, a funeral march.
"We can't stay," said Ingunn. "We've got to go out and be ordinary and witness last days like the rest."
"And celebrate," replied Valdis, her breath intermittently rising in little clouds, as if she were a signal fire emitting messages. "Because, why not?"
They embraced then and kissed. Before they exited they lay their ungloved hands upon the ice and left the loving imprints melted inches in, which no mortal could have done, which was one way of saying goodbye.
10 December 2022
Texas Jim
Vatnajokull, Iceland
www.granitecoast.ca