The Visitor

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Ernie lived in a small cabin in the woods. It was really more of a luxury fishing shack than a true cabin with little work spent on appearance and much more work spent on function. He lived on a hill next to a very bubbly and largish stream which flowed to a river and then on to the sea. The cabin was surrounded by beautiful pines and maples and a sense of peace and contentment filled the air. For miles around, all that could be seen as a sign of human habitation was the small smoke trail from Ernie’s cabin where a warm fire kept the chill out of the air inside. Ernie sat napping in his easy chair, an open book on his lap and a steaming cup of coffee by his side.

The peace of the day was broken by what first started as as slight tapping. In his dreams, Ernie imagined a woodpecker nearby, but the tapping became more insistent and pulled him from his dream. Someone was at the door.

Ernie was quite perplexed. He had never had visitors and frankly didn’t care to have any. He roused himself and moved towards the front door. The tapping had stopped, as if the visitor was aware he was on his way. Ernie spoke through the door.

“Who’s there and what’s your business?”, said Ernie.

“A friend, just here for conversation”, said a calm welcoming voice.

“I have no friends here. Are you selling something? Because I have no money nor desire to purchase anything.”, said Ernie.

“No, no I’m not a salesman. All I offer is friendship and conversation. I live just over the hill and across the river following the sunrise.”, said the voice.

“Well, that’s interesting. What do you need?”, said Ernie. This was quite strange. He had been here for years and years and never knew of a neighbor.

“I just want to talk, Ernie. Please let me in.”, said the Visitor.

Ernie weighed the risk and decided there was little chance of a dangerous person in this place so he decided to open the door.

The man who greeted him had curly brown shoulder length hair and a friendly face. His gentle smile and demeanor encouraged Ernie he had made the right decision.

…

The Visitor came in, placing hand on Ernie’s shoulder. “Thank you, friend. Where may we sit and talk?”. Ernie directed him towards the living room where Ernie’s reading chair sat and conveniently another chair opposite.

“Please make yourself comfortable. Would you like a hot tea or coffee?”, Ernie said, trying his best be play host, a skill long left rusty.

“Actually, a nice cup of hot tea sound wonderful. Whatever you have is fine”, said the Visitor, “It’s quite chilly, although not uncomfortably so. Just the right temperature for a nice fire, yes?”

“Yes, very true”, said Ernie as he moved to make the tea and freshen his own coffee. As he worked he glanced at the Visitor and noted his simple and well worn clothes. His jeans looked roughly used, and his red collar shirt a bit faded under his simple brown jacket. He did look like someone who lived in the woods and therefore a kindred spirit. Ernie felt himself warming to the Visitor more, and had to admit he was happy for some company.

“How do you find the fishing here?”, said the Visitor, “I find my part of the river quite abundant.”

“I can’t complain. I catch small brim mostly and am happy for them. There’s a pond nearby with a nice boulder to sit on as you fish. Also a small waterfall.”, said Ernie, excited to speak of one of his favorite activities.

“Ah, the little brim. Just the right size for a biscuit!”, said the Visitor.

“My mother always said that!”, said Ernie.

“Yes, I’m sure she wanted to encourage your fishing endeavors when you were a child”, said the Visitor.

Ernie sat across from the Visitor after handing him his tea. “Why, I never thought of that, but I suppose it’s true.”

“I’m guessing you grew up near the river?”, said the Visitor.

“Yes, actually. Just a mile or so walk. What a wonderful delight it was each summer especially. I would ride my bike to the river with a friend and we would fish all day, catching the small brim and an occasional catfish with our cane poles. I never knew more idyllic joy than those days.”, said Ernie.

…

“Hey, Over here!”, shouted Bill, “I found some muscles!”. He was pointing to a small in-set part of the river bank some ways from Ernie. “They make great catfish bait. You got your knife to pry ‘em open?”.

“Yep”, said Ernie, excitedly running towards Bill and reaching in his pocket for this Barlow knife. Bill was squatting near on the river bank, reaching into the water and scooping up black shiny river muscles. Ernie sat on the grass next to Bill.

“Dump them over here next to me and I’ll pry them open. Where to we put the meat at?” Ernie got up and looked around. “I’ll find something. Hold on.” A bit down the steam, Ernie noticed an old can, probably used by someone to hold worms on a fishing trip. He snapped it up. Nothing in here but some old worm dirt. She shook the can out. “I found an old can. I’ll get to shucking them muscles!”, said Earnie. Wow, the day was coming together great! He sat down on the grass and began running the blade of the Barlow through the muscles, using the sharp tip of the knife to extract the meat, then placing it in the can. Soon, they had plenty for bait.

Ernie and Bill ran to the dock with the bait and sat down together to setup their hooks. Before long, the bait was on the hook and the catfish were nibbling. “Don’t get much better than this”, said Bill. “That’s the truth”, said Ernie, smiling. The smell of the river was pungent and strong with scents of muddy water, iron and sweat from their bodies on this summer day. Yes, it doesn’t get much better than this, thought Ernie, feeling the catfish take the bait.

…

Erie was surprised to find himself tearing up slightly. He quickly wiped his eyes and took a sip of coffee to reset. “And you? What was your upbringing like? Did you also grow up near a river?”

“Yes”, said the Visitor, “and a nearby vast sea. I have always loved the role of fisherman. A noble venture, and satisfying as you say.

They were quite for a moment as they both enjoyed their tea and coffee. Contemplating.

“How do you enjoy this place, Ernie? Does it agree with you?”, said the Visitor, looking up expectantly.

“Yes, I do. It’s wonderful. Peaceful. I enjoy the quiet and nature.”, said Ernie.

“I’m curious”, said the Visitor, standing up and walking to the window with his tea, looking over the rolling hillside and trees towards the river, “How far have you ventured? To the sea?”

“Just barely”, Ernie said, “Walking once, I smelled the salt of the sea and heard the waves, but I had to get back so I left.”

“Hmm. What was your hurry?”, said the Visitor.

“Supper. I really enjoy taking time to cook myself a nice meal each night”, said Ernie.

“Ahh. What do you like to cook?”, said the Visitor, sipping his tea.

“Well, often it’s fish of some type of course. Fresh vegetables from the garden. Some rice or potatoes. Nothing too fancy”, said Ernie.

“Meals must be very important to you”, said the Visitor.

“Well, I guess. Everyone has to eat. I enjoy the peacefulness of cooking, the smells, and the tastes. Some of my best memories are of my Mother cooking for us. She always made a special meal on Sunday’s. Sometimes getting up before dawn to start on the preparations”, said Ernie.

“She loved you very much, and showed that with the food she made”, said the Visitor.

“Yes, she did.”, said Ernie, “She would hum and sing sometimes quietly as she worked, her apron sprinkled with flour, gravy and whatever else she was cooking. I miss those meals.”

“Ernie, It sounds like a wonderful childhood you had.”

“Well, yes. Mostly I guess.”, said Ernie.

The Visitor sat back down, having finished his tea. “Do you grow your own garden?”, he said.

“Yes, mostly”, said Ernie, “The garden is out back. I pick the plants and manage the garden, but I didn’t plant the plants. Hmm. That is strange. Now that I think of it, the garden always seems full and doesn’t need much tending.”

“And where do you get your supplies for cooking?”, said the Visitor.

Ernie paused and considered. The pantry was always full. “Uhh, Peggy must go shopping somewhere nearby. I’m not sure…”, said Ernie, trailing off.

“Peggy? Your wife?”, said the Visitor.

“Yes”, said Ernie, looking confused, “I’m not sure where she is right now..”

“Hmm”, said the Visitor. “I imagine you haven’t seen her in quite some time”.

“I guess that’s true”, said Ernie, “How strange..”

“Ernie, I feel that you’ve been alone here for a long time now. Don’t you think that’s true?”, said the Visitor.

Ernie looked around. The cabin seemed so familiar, yet suddenly strange. Like a dream. He shook his head, as if trying to wake up. “Uhh.. what is this whole conversation about. I must admit, I’m very confused now. You seem to know so much about me, but we’ve never met.”

“We’ve known each other for a long time, Ernie”, said the Visitor, “I so wish you could remember. But we’ll get there together. For now, I'd love to know more about your life."