the watershed

The Watershed There was a time when 45. I thought life had passed me by I had spent too much time seeing the night train leave. Through the rain, the soaked train windows saw people  reading others looked into space, some were crying My friends had drifted away, and my old mate Trond had found God, and to think we sat all night long talking about books, and in the morning, we went out with his boat fishing, drinking cold beer and falling asleep  the sun danced on the blue water in the fjord  wind from the dark mountain didn’t blow. The best women, too, lost patience and took the tram home To Mum and your dad, waiting for you to grow up. At 45, your parents begin dying, and the impossible happens you are a floating iceberg lost in a glass of whisky. And just as wheels on suitcases were invented, you grow up Polish your shoes and find that little cabin in a hidden valley has a leaking roof and has been waiting just for you.