He wasn’t always alone while he traveled the path. Companions came, and companions went. As he stood in the fog, alone, his thoughts turned to some of those times.
In this instance, his mind turned toward the bird, a close companion, with whom had traveled with him for a short while. He smiled as he reminisced – they had gotten along famously, and the sun had shined warmly on their journey. As they navigated through the world, they seemingly worked in synchronous thought and movement, while each remaining their own being. Contentment and relaxation filled his breast as he reflected on those times. Good times. Happy times. A contented sigh left his lips as the warmth spread through him, some of the first rays of such a feeling he had had in what seemed forever.
The bird had flitted about – no here, now there – curious, and full of life. Unhindered by the need for a foothold, the bird soared high, then low, able to navigate it’s own path seemingly at will, regardless of terrain.
He took a soft breath in, and made the call they had shared – a soft, yet excited sound, which had always resonated in tune with his being. The call echoed through the fog.
He paused as the echo traveled through the vapor, listening. There was always the hope of the reply from the bird, the return of his cheery companion.
But in the back of his mind, he was reminded of the day the fog had come, and shrouded him within it’s misty embrace. Seemingly overnight, his feathered friend had vanished, and while he thought he could occasionally hear the call that had always warmed his heart on the breeze, the bird had never shown up.
He tried to convince himself his friend was not coming back, and had found bluer skies to travel. His hope remained, but he steeled himself to face what he was certain was his reality.
Perhaps the reply would come. Perhaps not.
He continued listening, hopeful, yet cautious of that hope.
Only silence answered.