The balcony faced the English Channel. The sun was setting and the reflection on the water left a shimmering glow.
We broke bread,cut the slices of cheese,opened the wine and toasted another perfect day in France.
Friends laughng and sharing stories of life, children, grandchildren and surprises we still had in store for our lives..
I noticed,out of the corner of my eye, a stairway on the lawn below leading somewhere.
A lawn, lawn chairs, tables and other guests chatting with each other as my eye caught the stairs and then the locked door at the foot of the stairwell.
We went down there,with wine in hand. On that charming April night, in that glorious part of the world we realized the stairs and door were part of the remains of a German bunker from the German occupation of France during the second world war.
The bunker looked out over the English Channel.
The chateau had been occupied by German soldiers during the war and before the liberation.
We walked the hallways, the lawn, looked out over the water,sipped wine where years before the war time occupants also did the same activities. .
Time.
Is it linear or circular.
Were we all there at different times or the same time but in different dimensions.
All I knew is that in this beauty there had been horror. Yet in that horror there was always this beauty.
We wandered back to the balcony. Toasted our state of grace. Our gratitude to be where we were at this moment in time.
An ageless ,timeless moment.