It was a mistake when I asked him how he had been. Sometimes, I wish I wasn’t so damn polite. He started with a tinnitus update, then worked slowly down the body. When he went on about the problems with his lower back, I picked up my coffee and drank[…]
I never saw the door closing, but I was battered by the whirlwind it created. One moment I was central to every aspect of her life, the next, I am locked out. Barred. Those open discussions, of earlier years, have dried up like a stoney desert river, with only the[…]
The hands creep relentlessly towards 2:00am. It’s nearly that moment when the clocks are moved forward.One hour less in bed. One hour less of my nighttime punishments.With the clock sitting on my chest, I twist the lever on that vanishing hour. 3:00am.So easy to eradicate.Yet it’s the wrong sixty minutes[…]
She knits birds. Colourful and lifelike. The legs and beaks are always the trickiest parts. A golden ribbon is attached around their necks, before they are released into the wild. Earlier, she will have chosen the right tree for launching her latest creation. After dark, she cycles to the location[…]
I make the letter T with my two pointer fingers. She nods in response, without a smile and certainly without a comment. It’s our first two-way communication of the day. In a couple of minutes, when I put the cup in front of her, I might be graced with a[…]
The red suitcase trundles past again. A green ribbon informs me that it isn’t mine.A few bags are left wobbling on the circulating belt. The diminishing crowd is also beginning to wobble anxiously.My escape had been a flash reaction. Always fermenting, dreamily preparing but, until yesterday, just going round and[…]
I hadn’t written too much about myself online. However, minutes into our first meeting, I opened up like a ripped bean bag. I talked about mother’s health, second wife issues, Alan’s problems at school, my attempts to find employment, debts and the unfortunate fight with the neighbour. Clare had listened[…]
This morning, she addressed me by the wrong name. She called me Paul. That was her husband’s name. We were sitting in the garden, admiring the results of the work we’d put into our rockery. I don’t think she noticed her mistake and I certainly wasn’t going to tell her.[…]
She is multilingual and uses this superb talent appropriately. Talking to her father, she converses in her mother tongue. In grand restaurants she orders expensive wines in fluent French. On sun bleached beaches, Spanish will be spoken. Perfectly accented Italian resonates through designer stores in New York. Even Latin echoes[…]
Mum moved into a care home yesterday. She doesn’t care and it isn’t home. The family visitors will be greeted as strangers. Long term friends, who have their own long term issues, will send her cards that she will find hard to open and impossible to read. But tonight, after[…]