There is a tide in the affairs of men.
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.
Julius Caesar Act 4, scene 3, 218–224
I wish I could go back to this morning but dusk is approaching and when darkness descends, the nightmare will begin. The buried memories lay dormant for many years, but that would change by early afternoon.
Such an ordinary morning too, filled with sunshine and bird song. The kitchen played out its usual breakfast noises, the boiling kettle competed with the radio and. beyond the confines of domesticity the garden had sprung new blades of emerald grass glistening with dew, confirming a subtle change in the season.
Now everything seems irrevocably altered. Outside, the elements rage. A gale force wind is rattling the budding branches against the windowpanes. It’s unnerving and perhaps prophetic. As the storm intensifies, it encourages illogical thoughts and morbid imaginings.
Like sitting in the train carriage destined to derail, or boarding a plane headed for the bottom of a vast ocean.
Derail is the applicable word. Is that what has happened? Has life derailed? Perhaps it’s too soon to know. Is it destiny, or karma? The answer to that question will puzzle more than a few people for a long time.
The trouble is, all this obsessive analysis is exhausting. There’s one certainty though, time is not ours to manipulate.
Going back to this morning is impossible and the prospect of going forward is intolerable.