Author: marjc1

Standing daydreaming at the station in the early morning sunshine, I didn’t see you at first. It was such a surprise when you said hello. Oh my goodness taken back so many years in an instant! You hadn’t changed a bit, not one bit. I had: from brunette to grey, from slim to, well, not so slim. Yet you recognised me.

Funny that. Funny how 30, probably 40, years can slip away and memories flood back.

We were the best of friends, so close that people thought we were gay. That used to make us laugh: if only they knew. We were friends of a different nature, bound close together by shared experiences. Drinking, chasing men, men chasing us, just having fun. When I look back now, I can’t believe what we used to get up to.

I guess I didn’t smile when you approached me. I’m sorry, my eyesight’s had got a lot worse over the years. I wish it weren’t so: I hate getting old.

You looked so well. Always striking, at 6 feet, people were never going to ignore you. A veritable Amazon who delighted in wearing heels “just because I can”. You never did take prisoners did you? I learned so much by being your friend. I also saw how a lot of your chat was to hide your vulnerability and shyness. I guess you had no choice but to be loud and proud because, my goodness, nobody was going to pass you by. Your beauty (still there) stunned many who came in contact with you, and that included me.

Of course, we talked and talked as the London train came in. The journey passed in a flash of laughter. No doubt our fellow passengers hated us by the time we reached Waterloo. But what a joy to see you. Such a joy!

I am so glad we had that fun. We never touched on those dark parts, which there always are, until we reached the ticket barrier.

“How’s Dan” you asked.

Dan.

The one thing – no person – that had come between us. I couldn’t speak. How did you not know about Dan? It had been all over the papers and television. I remembered why our friendship had faltered and failed. Even though we had been friends, it had always been about you. So why should I have expected you to know that Dan had died only a few months ago?

For that moment, I hated you. And then you hugged me hard, so hard that I thought I would break. The dark thoughts disappeared as I realised why you’d asked: you needed to touch that darkness once more to get to the light.

You had always known about Dan, hadn’t you? That’s why you appeared today. Even after all these years, you knew. Dan had always said you’d turn up again. He was right. You came when I needed you most. Thank you.

Together we took a cab to St Paul’s for his memorial service, friends once more.

Apologies for failing to post this yesterday… I took a day off to pursue my other hobby.  And I forgot.  Sorry.

Come with me,

Come with me

To the memory shop

Where a package, a colour,

A taste of old

Takes you back to your youth

And makes you smile.

Let us spend (both) money

And time

Choosing those things

We remember best –

The fizzes and crunches

The jellies and toffees

The sweet and acidic tastes

That shocked and delighted us

Come with me

And remember –

Be a child again.

His big brother always told him there were monsters. Monsters that hid in closets, under beds, in his ears. Billy was always, always frightened cos Sean was always, always right. Of course, Momma told him it was nonsense, that there were no such things as monsters, but Billy knew better.

One day Dadda took Billy out for a drive in the car. Cars always made Billy sleepy. In fact, 5 minutes in a car and Billy would go out like a light. One second awake, the next slumped in deep sleep, dreaming like crazy.

Dadda had some errands to run in different shops and was a bit naughty. Rather than wake Billy (who was actually a cranky chap when roused) Dadda left him to sleep in his car seat.

Five shops later, Billy was still fast asleep and Dadda had a great thought about how to end the day. They would go to the garage to get the car washed in the automatic machine. It wouldn’t cost much to have a lovely gleaming car. Dadda followed the washing man’s instructions about lining the wheels up carefully and switching the engine off.

With a whoosh, the machine started.

Of course it was at that point that Billy woke up from a not very nice dream. The monsters were chasing him. Imagine his shock and horror when he saw the monster slapping at the window.

“Dadda, Dadda, there’s a monster….” Billy screamed very, very loudly.

“Don’t be a silly Billy – it’s only a car washing machine” Dadda said

“No Dadda… I mean it… it’s a big monster with BIG slappy hands”

Silence.

The car inched forwards.  Billy started screaming again.

He turned to look at his Dadda.

Who wasn’t there.

“I’m in pain” I said.

The man looked concerned. He identified the problem, and immediately started sorting things out.

“How do you feel now?” he asked as he tucked me in.

“Much better. Yesterday was such a shattering experience.”

Thanks to my Twitter pal Ree for asking me to take part in this small challenge.  This particular piece may (or may not) grow as the challenge passes.  Here goes:

Beginnings

Paper

Pencil

Silence

Waiting for the words

And so it begins