Long road

I used to sit reflectionless, and watch the eel slither his way slowly around the swimming-hole of my childhood. By the cool clear pool, under the shade of a giant fig, I'd sit motionless, observing him for hours sometimes. There I would escape the reality of my teenage world. Some days, I'd stay until the daylight filtering through the leaves passed it's golden hour, and only the chill of early evening would shiver me out of my dream-state.

Of late, I've been eel-watching again, and so calming was the gentle undulating movement of his serpentine body, that I was easily able to give reality the slip, for a while.

But reality is an tenacious bastard, and here I sit, staring into his familiar eyes, as he holds my hand, and reassures me it will be OK. And it is good to see him again, it is always so good to feel his warm embrace. But despite his comfort and warmth, I know there will come a time, when I slip out of the room before he wakes, because I know I'm still afraid to commit to reality.