Would our trip to Rannoch Moor have been so beautiful if I’d known it was to be our last? Is it better not to know?
We snaked through delicate, single-track roads until the landscape opened up, and we were in awe of the beauty of the country we call home. We walked through forest, and listened to nothing, and accidentally startled a herd of deer on a hill when we shouted “echo!” into the still air. We warmed ourselves with hot chocolate bought from the only shop for miles.
We were content, because we didn’t know. We didn’t know that after that, the only trips I would take with you were to the hospital. The hospice. Your grave.
The piano consoled me, and took me away. I didn’t know where I was going, but I ended up back at Rannoch Moor.
In memory of my beloved dad, Bruce.