drop away, and I wouldn’t stay awake, sleepless, for hours each night anymore. In the summer, Paula could swim in the sea without worrying about someone breathing down her neck, like I did at the over-crowded pool. Mathis stopped and pointed at the dike. “There’s a gorgeous view from there. I’d like to show you.”
I got off my bike and looked up with him. I could see what he meant. In front of us were broad salt marshes, bordered by a narrow strip of sand, then the sea. The sea wasn’t exactly there at the moment, but that did not diminish the scene’s beauty. Quite the opposite. With the tide out, sunlight sparkled in the pools of tidewater left in the sand. These had drawn what felt like every bird in the area. The air was filled with their screeches.
“This would be the ideal place to write a novel,” I observed.
“You write novels?”
“I could if I lived here.”
“Why don’t you write them where you live now?”
“Oh, I tried, but I get totally frustrated. When I sit in front of my computer, nothing comes to mind. At least, nothing positive. The only thing I could write there would be a novel about frustration, and no one wants to read that.”
“Probably not.”
“Have you ever thought about writing a book? I once heard someone say that everyone has at least one book in them.”
“Oh, I’ve written many, but only in my head. On paper, I can’t write a single coherent sentence. I’m afraid my stories will stay my secret forever. Probably no one would want to read them anyway.”
“People would want to read about Mathis and Uwe.”
“Yes, ‘Mathis’ has had a truly exciting life and one that’s full of contradictions. People often envy the varied life I’ve lived. But everything I’ve done, I’ve done because of pressure—either pressure put on me by other people or by circumstances, or pressure I put on myself. If I’d been more sure about my decisions, my life would have turned out quite different. Maybe not more peaceful, but different. I suppose that’s true for everyone, though, not just me.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t mind me. I’m just thinking out loud. Forgive me. Anyway, we were talking about you. Why don’t you just move? If you’re self-employed, perhaps you could move your office here. Or maybe you really could write. There are lots of options.”
He had a point. I had wrapped up all my projects before vacation. I just needed more courage to make that kind of decision. Or someone to kick me in the butt. Probably both.
“Well, you know what Gellert says.”
“Who?” Mathis gave me a blank stare.
“You know: Christian Fürchtegott Gellert. Goethe’s mentor?” I wagged a finger at him.
“Oh, that Christian Fürchtegott Gellert.”
“You don’t know who he is, do you?”
“Never heard of him. But I’ve heard of Goethe, if that helps.”
“Good for you.”
“Thanks so much. So, what did this genius say about your life?”
“It’s not about my life, in particular, but about life as a whole.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said, ‘Live, like you will have wished to have lived when you die.’”
“Actually, I have heard that before. I like that. It’s almost as if he knew my problem.”
“What problem is that?”
“That’s a very long story.”
“Then it sounds like I’ve got a fascinating vacation ahead of me,” I began, then realized what I’d said. “I mean . . . That is, if you want to tell me.” Why didn’t I ever think before I opened my mouth?
He looked at me for a long time. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I actually think I’m in the mood.”
The seafood restaurant at the boat harbor turned out to be a true gem. It was located in a tiny thatched wooden hut and could seat no more than twenty guests. Fishing nets hung from the ceiling and walls. There were no typical light fixtures, but old ship lanterns dangled from the ceiling. On the walls hung many small plaques bearing sailors’ sayings, but
I got off my bike and looked up with him. I could see what he meant. In front of us were broad salt marshes, bordered by a narrow strip of sand, then the sea. The sea wasn’t exactly there at the moment, but that did not diminish the scene’s beauty. Quite the opposite. With the tide out, sunlight sparkled in the pools of tidewater left in the sand. These had drawn what felt like every bird in the area. The air was filled with their screeches.
“This would be the ideal place to write a novel,” I observed.
“You write novels?”
“I could if I lived here.”
“Why don’t you write them where you live now?”
“Oh, I tried, but I get totally frustrated. When I sit in front of my computer, nothing comes to mind. At least, nothing positive. The only thing I could write there would be a novel about frustration, and no one wants to read that.”
“Probably not.”
“Have you ever thought about writing a book? I once heard someone say that everyone has at least one book in them.”
“Oh, I’ve written many, but only in my head. On paper, I can’t write a single coherent sentence. I’m afraid my stories will stay my secret forever. Probably no one would want to read them anyway.”
“People would want to read about Mathis and Uwe.”
“Yes, ‘Mathis’ has had a truly exciting life and one that’s full of contradictions. People often envy the varied life I’ve lived. But everything I’ve done, I’ve done because of pressure—either pressure put on me by other people or by circumstances, or pressure I put on myself. If I’d been more sure about my decisions, my life would have turned out quite different. Maybe not more peaceful, but different. I suppose that’s true for everyone, though, not just me.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t mind me. I’m just thinking out loud. Forgive me. Anyway, we were talking about you. Why don’t you just move? If you’re self-employed, perhaps you could move your office here. Or maybe you really could write. There are lots of options.”
He had a point. I had wrapped up all my projects before vacation. I just needed more courage to make that kind of decision. Or someone to kick me in the butt. Probably both.
“Well, you know what Gellert says.”
“Who?” Mathis gave me a blank stare.
“You know: Christian Fürchtegott Gellert. Goethe’s mentor?” I wagged a finger at him.
“Oh, that Christian Fürchtegott Gellert.”
“You don’t know who he is, do you?”
“Never heard of him. But I’ve heard of Goethe, if that helps.”
“Good for you.”
“Thanks so much. So, what did this genius say about your life?”
“It’s not about my life, in particular, but about life as a whole.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said, ‘Live, like you will have wished to have lived when you die.’”
“Actually, I have heard that before. I like that. It’s almost as if he knew my problem.”
“What problem is that?”
“That’s a very long story.”
“Then it sounds like I’ve got a fascinating vacation ahead of me,” I began, then realized what I’d said. “I mean . . . That is, if you want to tell me.” Why didn’t I ever think before I opened my mouth?
He looked at me for a long time. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I actually think I’m in the mood.”
The seafood restaurant at the boat harbor turned out to be a true gem. It was located in a tiny thatched wooden hut and could seat no more than twenty guests. Fishing nets hung from the ceiling and walls. There were no typical light fixtures, but old ship lanterns dangled from the ceiling. On the walls hung many small plaques bearing sailors’ sayings, but
Similar Books
