Benoit could feel the boat rock gently as he turned the ship’s wheel starboard.” Time to go.” He said, glancing at his wife, Melanie. 

     “if we must.” she replied, facing her husband.
     “I thought you hated diving.” he asked. “The water, the fish?”
    His comment made her smile. “it wasn’t the diving. It’s the time you spent doing it.”
Benoit gazed at his wife. In recent days, her fair complexion appeared distinctly pale.
     “in five years of diving, did you ever come upon a shipwreck?” asked Melanie.
     “I did once….” Benoit said. “but unless you mark the spot, you lose the place.”
     “So you lost the wreck,” replied Melanie in mock irritation.
     “Well…em…no, not really.” Benoit felt like an impish lad. “It sort of, well… impedes an hour’s contentment under the water. All you hear is your breathing, connecting with fish large and small.”
     “And on the surface?”
     “The warmth of the sun, water lapping against the boat. The camaraderie amongst fellow divers recalling tales of their many dives around the world.”
      “Diving sounds enticing. Maybe I should join you?”
      Benoit started the motor and swung the boat towards the shore. “If you decide, I’ll teach you.” He pushed the throttle open, bringing the outboard engines to life.
      He stretched his neck to appreciate the autumn afternoon rippling with exquisite colours. Meanwhile, the setting red sun reflected on the rippling water giving and tinged the horizon with a light rose red. On the left bank, the patchwork countryside rolled away into the distance. The charm of the place meant frequent visits, including their honeymoon in a family-run hotel.
       He thought of their first few trips with affection in their passion wagon, a beat-up Kombi camper, a present from his dad. Its engine laboured, driving the slightest incline. At the hillside ridge, he let the Kombi go full speed down the hill, accelerating on the next downward slope. Fortunately, he never needed to test his driving skills in any circumstance.

      Benoit roused himself and pulled the boat alongside the jetty. Melanie stepped from the boat and stood at the jetty’s end, admiring the shoreline.
     “Shall we check out the twilight from the top of the hill?” he asked. Melanie turned. Her voice was distant, and her complexion was almost transparent. “I’d Love to,” she replied, gripping his hand.
      As they walked up the gentle slope, gently weaving their path through the forests, a pensive Benoit paused. Why did all the trees appear to be losing their vibrancy? He loved an autumn afternoon. It signalled the year-end and a new year to come.
Today had a distinct feeling of an end to something he had yet to grasp. Not bleak, but a natural stage in his life. His footsteps punctuated the peace, treading on decomposing, sun-dried leaves. Benoit gazed upward to the diminishing forest canopy, his eyes darting from bough to bough, searching for the source of frantic but melodic birdsong.
     The bird, well hidden amongst the last few remaining leaves. Why had it not flown south for the winter? Did he think? A squirrel burying nuts in the preparation of winter and the appearance of berries on holly bushes and the burst of life around him.
Melanie watched him. “Better look where you’re going, else you step on a small animal.”
      He paused and gazed in her direction, noting the paling of her skin and fading voice. Was this a natural occurrence? He gripped her hand and faced her. “We need to talk,” the look on his face suggested an admission.
    “We regularly talk. What is it?” replied Melanie.
    “Have I neglected our marriage?”
    “No, why do you ask?”
    “It’s on my mind.”
    “Whats on your mind?”
    “I worked many hours at the office and the occasional weekend. When I came home late for dinner was cold in the oven.”
     “Or in the dog,” smiled Melanie.
     “Work got on top of me and I needed to find peace and diving became my outlet.”
     “Until you started diving after many years, we did a lot together. But I understood.”
     “We never had that family we spoke of.” he said, feeling regret.
      Melanie crunched her lips, “Yes, but I won’t blame you.”
He nodded a thank you. “No, little us or two running around.”
     “We can’t have everything in life. But we met the challenges and survived. We have a pleasant home, wonderful car and money to spend.”
      “You remained positive,” he said with a nod, “and that’s why we succeeded as we have.”
      “Yes, it is.”
      He recalled the cities and countries they had visited. Holding hands as they watched a sunset over the Atlantic on a cruise liner. Wine and tapas in Barcelona, historic Rome and Lisbon. Not to forget the people they met along the way. Each recollection was clear as day.
       Benoit remembered their active lives and how Melanie’s love gave meaning and purpose to his life, promising to care for each other in sickness and in health. A tranquil wave consumed him as they reached the brow of the hill. The warmth of the last summer ebbing away touched him, followed by a fresh breeze breathing a chill into Benoit’s bones. In the sky, he stared at the bright reds and pinks bouncing off the scattered clouds.
      A village sat at the foot of the hill. Wisps of smoke rose from the cottage chimneys, reminiscent of the type his grandparents occupied. Benoit inhaled the smell of the burning coal mixed with the scents of winter’s imminent arrival. From one cottage strolled a familiar couple waving to him. They were joined by many people he recognised from old black and white photographs.
     Odd, I don’t feel cold but warm; he thought as he visualised the moist earth, the green moss and decaying leaves long fallen from the trees leaving the bare branches. Animals were collecting food for the long winter months. Birds were flying south for the winter: snowball fights, snowmen, woollen mittens, and hats. Above him, a cloud of soft white light descended over him, making all his thoughts clear.
     “It’s time for me to go.”
     “I know,” she replied, caressing his face, “I love you,” she whispered as he turned on his side, thinking, “I’m tired and want to sleep.” Melanie sat by his deathbed, holding his hand, tears on her cheeks. A nurse touched his forehead and cradled his wrist. His breathing calmed. His last breath expelled, his eyes remained fixed ahead.
     As her voice petered out, she said, “You will be with me constantly while I remember you.”
     A face from his youth greeted him with a sympathetic smile, leading him to familiar faces and into the embrace of a family long departed.