My father casts me a worried glance. “Henri, please. It’s not good to hesitate for too long. Doors never remain open forever.”

What’s holding me back?

“Henri, I beg you! It isn’t good. You shouldn’t linger in between for too long.”

In between? What does that mean? In between what?

My father stares at me as he used to do, as if to say, “Didn’t you ever listen? Didn’t you listen to Malo when he explained the sea’s character to you?”

The sea is a woman. She knows every shore and protects the dead who sail out in their barks past the Île de Sein until they come to islands that feature on none of this world’s maps. The sea is time’s lover. Together, the sea and time gave birth to death, dreams, and humans; they are their offspring.

“It’s easy to get lost at the crossing points. Come on, Henri! I beg you. I don’t want to lose you again.”

He doesn’t want to lose me? What? I lost him.

Unexpectedly, the door slams, opens again gently and crashes shut again, opens and then closes. The blows ring out like thunder. They’re threatening, a message that says, “You’d better hurry up!”

Each time the door opens it’s a request, a lure, a sweet tug, an invitation to curl up in the coziest sun-warmed corner of Ty Kerk and enjoy the quiet shelter and safety, punctuated by my father’s occasional humming, Malo’s quiet laughter at what he’s reading, the dog’s wheezing, the cats’ purring, and the crackling of the fire. Everything would be fine forever more.

And yet I don’t move. I don’t know where I find the strength to resist this temptation.

My father says, “Oh, Henri, it’s all over. Look!” He gestures to me, and all at once I am hit by a wave of emotion so intense that it permeates every cell in my body. It’s overwhelming; it invades me and I’m flooded with images and feelings and knowledge. And then I see it. I see everything.

I see the things we regret most when we die and the final seconds start to tick, during which there’s no possibility of catching up, no more making good. I see that, and it strikes me as logical. How stupid we humans are to forget it, death after death after death, and life after life! I also forgot. Worse: every time I had a chance to advance into the center of my life, I took a step back.

“Time’s up, Henri. Let go!”