the threads in her head

The dying embers of that last campfire-

Black ashes from the campfire floated gently on invisible currents of air. Some were huge pieces, seemingly alive, dark moths that glowed red and orange at the edge of their wings. Others were but little ragged scraps, curling and crinkling up even further, smaller as they fell to the ground.

There was one man beside the campfire. One lone man, as far as the naked eye could see. But the man himself knew better - his sharp grey eyes stared unblinkingly round, taking in all the people around him. They were real, vivid and full of substance, never mind if no one else could see them. To him, their haunting was sometimes all he ever knew now, in these long days. The warmth of his wife as she pressed against him, securely against his left side, the familiar weight of her head against his shoulder, the soft curls of her hair tickling, just a little, his cheek. His kids laughed as they chased each other round the fire, one boy and one girl's face glowing ghostly orange and red from the blaze of the fire, their peals of light childish giggles brightening up the very air it travelled on.

A familiar warm glow suffused through him, the manifestation of dearest feelings invoked from the suddenly highly conscious thought that one was loved, dearly, very much. Such epiphanies always occur in one moment, in less than the time it takes to snap a finger - but just as they come suddenly, they depart as swiftly. The moment passes, with only the remembrance of a memory left to refer to it. And thus, even as that fuzzy tingle suffused throughout him, it diffused and dissipated, and it was but one more second that passed, but it was gone along with the passing. He felt its absence acutely, but there was nothing, nothing he could have done to retain it, nothing he could do to pull back the rein of time, to freeze it even. That rein, was not in his hands; the thought left a bittersweet feeling that cushioned his heart and eased its aching hollowness a little.

A sigh - he was suddenly weary. The scene around him changed, his beloved looked down at him, her indigo eyes dark and milky with emotion, pain. He felt a pang of regret curled round his heart, heavy like leaden weights. She had opened her mouth, "Do you really have to go?" He heard his own voice, remembered it going passionately, "Yes, my dear, of course. It’s a researcher’s dream come true, to be out there, in the Amazon forest. Imagine it, if I could discover a new species! What a feeling that would be!”

“Can’t we go along too?” was her plaintive plea. But how could he? There was not just her, there were the kids, his children, their children, who had a bright future ahead, who could accomplish so much more, more than him even if they continue their education. No, he could not; he would not be so selfish to drag his whole family along. It was too hard a life for them out there – she had no idea the implications of them following him. Yet he could neither give up his dream for them.

Those were the feelings then, of that moment at least. He recalled it, he remembered vividly how he felt that his passion for science was greater. In truth perhaps, now that he thought about it, the thought of being able to be remembered as one who discovered a new species, his name forever remembered among the scientific world was lurking beneath all those noble words. He gave a wry smile, feeling an acute pain in his heart at the sudden enlightenment that had came upon him, that to leave his family had already been a selfish act, though he had not been selfish enough to bring them here to the wilds of Amazon.

Oh the longing, the desperation! A muffled cry tore from his throat, how things have changed. One moment in a warm happy home, the next moment pining like a sick dog, and, and – dare he admit it – and… facing death.

He felt alive, a throbbing energy through his veins. That philosophical, reminiscing mood had passed, like any other moments, and only action came to his mind now. There was hope yet – his supplies were down to this last day, but perhaps someone would find him soon, and he still had water. Thoughts raced through his mind, fast like lightning, without stop. Each wilder and wilder. To be able to go home, to really touch his wife for real, smell the rose fragrance in her hair, hold his kids in a big bear hug, tuck them into bed.

Exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep, as the camp fire slowly died out.