A shooting star

The water was warm and crystal clear and Tim could easily see the sandy bottom. Schools of small fish swam about in a coordinated manner and sea shells could be seen scattered everywhere. When he had reached the shallows, he stood up. The sand was smooth under his feet. He slowly lifted his head and let out  a whistle of surprise. The island, despite being in the middle of nowhere, looked totally awesome. Tim felt the waist bag he carried round his waist and breathed a sigh of relief.  “Everything according to plan,” he thought to himself smiling.

The luxurious yacht, where Tim was on just a few minutes ago, started to disappear in the distance. He was absolutely sure nobody would notice his absence. He had tried hard to remain invisible all along. And it would take them quite a long time to discover the precious pearl necklace missing from the safe. And when they did, he would be miles away, disgustingly rich. Tim had calculated everything to the last detail. Or, almost to the last detail.

Tim started walking out of the sea, looking around him. The beach was sandy and squeaky clean. Large palm trees overshadowed most of it and there was lush vegetation everywhere. Tim wasn’t the romantic guy, by no means. But the serenity of the place somehow calmed his tired mind. The truth was that Tim was tired of running away. From his exs, from the police, from debt collectors, from all over the world. He needed a place to settle down, to call it home.

His next thought was to explore the island and look for life. So he kept walking straight ahead, through the trees, the plants and the flowers, barefoot, wearing only his swimming trunks and the waist bag. The place looked virgin, unpolluted and uncorrupted by civilization. Birds flying up in the sky caught his eye. He kept walking, and walking, and walking, until he reached a small hill. He climbed up the hill and from the top he could see a little village: a few huts with thatched roofs, kids playing here and there and women doing housework. He decided to go closer as the people looked friendly, hospitable and simple. He started to climb down the hill, and walked closer to the village. In the meantime, he saw a group of men returning from work. He waved at them and they waved back smiling. They looked very friendly and hospitable. “You lucky duck,” he thought to himself and smiled. He approached the village with fast steps.   

The indigenous people were, indeed, very friendly towards Tim. When they saw him, they welcomed him with gestures, waves and smiles. They spoke a language Tim had difficulty understanding, and they didn’t speak a word of English. They invited him to sit, they brought fresh fruit and water for him to eat and drink, they laughed wholeheartedly. It was the first time Tim had ever seen so simple people. Away from civilization, forgotten by time, but so self contained and happy. In the beginning, he was reticent and withdrawn. But soon he realized there was no reason to be so, and opened up. He started to laugh and try the exotic fruit they had offered him. It felt so good to be with them.   

Tim understood that it was a small fishing village. The men either caught fish, or picked fruit, or cultivated the land with wheat. And the women did the housework and looked after the children. The old nurtured and guided the young. They looked so innocent, and happy. Tim thought of his life in the big city. A life full of amenities and luxuries, but devoid of true happiness, at least for him. Tim was tired of the rat race that prevailed in the cities. He needed a change, even a temporary one, but definitely a change.

It was already late afternoon and darkness had started to fall when Tim realized he had to spend the night there. He mimicked that he needed a place to sleep and maybe clothes to wear. Then an elderly woman stood up and took him by the hand. She led him to a hut which was somehow isolated from the others. Inside the hut there was a makeshift bed, a table, a chair and some clothes. She looked for a pair of trousers and a T-shirt and handed them to him. Fortunately, they looked his size. Then she pointed at the bed and bedcovers, she smiled and left the hut, leaving him alone.

The people of the village gathered round the fire. They exchanged news of the day, then talked about the newcomer. The Chief of the village, a wise old woman, said that, although they never had visitors before, they were obliged to offer him hospitality, food and shelter, and be kind to him as God was kind with them, provided them with food and shelter and protected them. They all agreed with the Chief and promised to do their best to make the stranger feel at home for as long as he wanted to stay there.     

Tim lay on the bed, the waist bag still round his waist. It was comfortable and seemed warm. He still couldn’t believe his luck. He had never felt so welcome and liked before.  He took the waist bag off and hid it under the bed. For the time being, it was of no importance to him. What was of importance was that he had eventually found a place to call home. Would he be able to spend the rest of his life there? He stood up and changed clothes. They fitted him perfectly. He then stood at the entrance of the hut and looked up in the sky.

It was the first time Tim had bothered to look up in the sky. The big city lights always hid it at night, so he rarely had the chance. He looked up and saw stars shining bright against a dark blue backdrop. He even caught a shooting star somewhere in the distance. He knew he had to make a wish, and he definitely knew deep in his heart, what to wish for. He kept looking up mesmerized, mystified, totally charmed.