Eine ungeplante Reise

My father once had an uncle who lived on Jorvik – George Meadowland. One day I received a phone call from my father. Uncle George had passed away. My parents were unable to travel to Jorvik, so my father asked me – on behalf of the family – to attend George’s funeral. To me, Jorvik had only ever been the name of my parents’ homeland. I had no real connection to it. I wasn’t particularly eager to go, since I didn’t know anyone there. But I could tell that it was important to my father, so I agreed. The island of Jorvik could only be reached by ferry. It was a long journey before I finally arrived at the harbor of the city of Fort Pinta. In Moorland there was a riding camp where I had booked a small holiday cottage. Since there was no other option, I set off on foot. Tired and thirsty, I arrived in Moorland. After having something to drink and unpacking my things, I looked around the facility. It was nicely designed, but clearly more suited for children and teenagers. Young riders were bustling about everywhere, there was a small shop, and lots of horses. I’ve had a very special connection to horses since early childhood and learned how to ride almost as soon as I learned how to walk. In one of the paddocks stood a particularly beautiful pinto horse. He was friendly, came straight up to me, and let himself be petted. Oh wow! Where had the time gone? I needed to hurry if I didn’t want to be late for George’s funeral. Only a few mourners attended the burial. One of them was Mr. Franklin, the mayor of Firgrove. George’s ranch was located in that area. Mr. Franklin shook my hand, offered his sincere condolences, and asked me to be at the notary’s office in Silverglade the next morning at 8 a.m. An elderly lady introduced herself as Esmeralda Holdsworth, a family friend. After the funeral, she invited me to her house in Moorland for a cup of coffee. We sat in her garden, drinking coffee and talking.

Gillian: “I never knew Uncle George. My father never talked about him either.”

Esmeralda: “Don’t trouble yourself over it, child. It is what it is. Enjoy a few nice days here and come by again before you leave.”

Esmeralda told me that my father used to visit Uncle George often. They got along very well until my father got married and moved to Munich. George resented this, and their contact gradually faded. George changed. He became increasingly grumpy, and people began to avoid him. All he had left was the ranch. He never had a wife or children. My grandmother – George’s sister – and Esmeralda had been best friends. When my grandmother became seriously ill, Esmeralda promised to look after George. Then my grandmother passed away. Esmeralda said she would have cut off contact with George long ago if it hadn’t been for that promise. So many thoughts were running through my head… far too many. A ride would be perfect right now – riding always helped clear my mind. I asked at the Moorland stables if I could borrow a horse. Justin Moorland, a handsome young man in his early twenties and the owner’s son, gave me a horse. It was the pinto I had already noticed earlier in the paddock.

Justin: “That’s Field, a well-behaved and experienced horse. You can explore the area with him.”

And that’s exactly what I did. A long and exciting day came to an end with this wonderful ride. Completely exhausted, I fell into bed and fell asleep immediately.