Love Is a Long Way Home

Love, is a long way home We worked together in the same hotel at a coastal town, I was a cook; she was doing the washing up…Her name was Ella one of the few names I recall from my youth. When we´re busy she often looked at me and smiled, at quiet time we drank coffee she had made. I had many girlfriends but Ella was my friend. The pay at the hotel wasn´t much so I quit and went back to sea again. At the railway station, Ella was the only one how came to say goodbye, I kissed her; her aroma of love lingered on my lips. I promised to write but the dizzying dance of life went on and I never wrote. I drove back to the coastal town, the hotel wasn´t there been replaced by a supermarket, no one knew Ella. But I sensed her nearness, so I walked in streets we had walked, came to a small café, I saw her serving coffee. I entered, she hadn´t changed much, she served me, but it she didn´t remember me. Full of sadness knew I had pursued a past that could not be repeated. But just as I was about to leave, a furrows creased her forehead and she remembered me…. Forty years, a bit late for children, but I work in her café as a cook.