the age of comfort [cowt11 | week 02 | m2]

[hannyakoma]

Prompt: Il vecchio ed il mare

Word count: 1050
Rating: sfw
Fandom: Originale
Note: //

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My days went by simply going with the flow of things, not really caring for something other than myself. Egoistically living by myself, in a small apartment near the coastline that I occasionally shared with a stray cat.

It was easier this way―that’s what I always told myself, if only to ease the sense of loneliness that embraced me every morning. That being said, though, it wasn’t like my life was that unsatisfactory.

There was a time in which things weren’t like this―a time in which I wished to be someone. To help everyone that was within my reach. To become a good example for people.

I wanted to be someone’s hero.

But that idea was strongly, vehemently, repeatedly crushed by no other than myself. Growing up, reality made me realize that those childish ideals were nothing more than an unreachable dream. So, I pushed it down and down, to the pits of my heart. 

Since then, I tried to never wish for things that would never be in my grasp, be it an object or a person. When I reached thirty-five years old, my desires were long put to sleep, just because so I decided.

To have some kind of peace of mind, I learned to shut down my desires―a good compromise, or so I thought.

Time passed and passed and passed, like a blur before my very own eyes. I’m not sure how it happened, but it felt like one day I was still a youngster and the next my skin already had wrinkles and darker marks here and there. I still don’t know, for the life of me, how those things are called. I don’t really care that much, either.

Nowadays, the only thing I can (and want to) do is watching the scenery around my home. 

You see, I live in a small cottage built near a beach. The place becomes a little noisy in summer, but during winter and early spring time it’s got the perfect atmosphere: the crashing of the waves on the shore, the distant cries of the seagulls, the salty breeze that blows from the sea… Every single thing is relaxing, like a quiet whisper of reassurance in the back of my mind.

For someone who hasn’t had any heavy trauma, nor dangerous experience, such a feeling is quite… odd. I’m not sure as to why my body and mind feels the need of that, but I guess it’s just human to feel something like this, together with the need of safety.

Such thoughts swarm my mind from day to day. Iit’s become a part of the routine already… almost as much as the little screeches coming from the shore in the late afternoons. 

Not long ago, a family has moved into the house a few numbers down the road. It’s a larger place than mine, of course, otherwise I’m not sure it would fit in eight people at all. 

I wonder if the man with the red hair is the father of them all. It doesn’t look feasible, honestly, because the oldest child looks around eighteen years old already, the next oldest close in age to him. So, maybe he’s only the father of the five youngest and the four teens have been adopted?

… This shouldn’t be on my mind as much as it is. It’s not my business at all.

Still, curiosity can be the most hideous of temptations, much more for someone my age that doesn’t have as much to do in the present. I’m sure I’m not the only one being like this, either: the lady living down the street must have started her rumors circle already.

Still, color me surprised, one day I received an unexpected visit.

A loud knock on the door, followed by another (weaker) one and some hushed voices, reaches my old ears. It takes me a few tries to stand up from my comfy armchair and reach the door... only to find six set of eyes looking at me. 

Why are these children at my doorstep? A fair question, because I didn't think they'd visit me. What reason could they have?

Turns out, their dad had invited them to pay a visit to the neighbourhood, because it's a polite thing to do after you move to a new place. Apparently, their big brother (well, they say older big brother since they have four) didn't really agree with this, but well.

I'm not sure what to expect, but... something warms my heart a little.

Since that day, the children have visited me quite a few times, often with either one of their older brother and sister, or their dad. 

I found out, they're quite a nice bunch. Friendly... albeit a bit suspicious, at times. I mean, the oldest child often looks around and at people with that little smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. It doesn't take an expert to notice that... well, that child feels more nervous than he lets on. Maybe he didn't want to move here? Or he's not comfortable with other people?

Then again, it's not my business.

... As much as I say this, it feels more and more like a lie. Especially when I have that same family sitting on my porch -- or, better, the family dad and the two oldest teenagers sitting with me, while looking at the rest of the kids playing around the beach. The weather is still cold, but the children literally love running and playing outside, apparently. 

I’m still not sure as to why they’ve begun visiting me quite often, other than the little ones wanting to play. Or the fact that I’ve given them cookies a few times as snacks. I surely have not bought them on purpose, after their first visit.

Thing is, they keep coming here at least three times a week. I can’t say I dislike this new addition to my routine… It’s odd. 

 

To think now there’s something more to me listening to the sea all day -- it’s very odd to me and... a little heart-warming.