The memory box

Folding the letter she gently smoothed the sheet of paper under her fingers feeling beneath them dryness of age that had affected it. Eyes too poor to read it now, nevertheless she knew every word by heart having devoured it so often over the years, now carefully stored with so many others and only now seeing light of day.

HARRY!

Closing her eyes his face flashed into her mind, hazy now as she struggled after so long to keep his features sharp and clear, she was losing him to time she knew that and the thought made her smile sadly. So long ago yet brief moments of clarity would invade her thoughts, his smile cutting through the fog and making it seem like only yesterday and then he was gone again leaving her with only these tangible memories. 

Sighing softly she replaced the pages into the large carved wooden box, fingers brushing a small packet as she did so drawing it slowly towards her before cupping it gently in her wrinkled palms and clasping it to her chest.  ‘Not long my love’ she thought to herself ‘Soon, it shall be soon’

Leaving the packet unopened she returned it quickly to the box, thrusting it inside as guilt burned and she slightly afraid of being discovered although she knew she would not be, nobody came any more. A splash of bright colour caught her eye and she reached towards a garish painted picture of a child’s hand with crude scrawl underneath depicting the artist’s name.

Ella.

Another smile, eyes warming briefly before the light quickly faded, no Ella was long gone and this just yet another memory of things come and gone in her many years of being. Sadness less sharp as each year went by panged momentarily before she dismissed it and returned the picture to lie back along its fellow inhabitants of the cluttered old box. 

Her worn gaze swept over the small grizzled teddy bear and the beribboned letters, oh she had been so popular in her day with her many suitors all begging for a smile, a glance, some sign of recognition from her but almost from the first she had only had eyes for him. Sweeping an errant lock of hair from her forehead she leaned further over the box disturbing the contents in her hunt for the one thing she sought. She needed to find it, to bring him close again before her failing mind refused to remember what she was looking for and left her in that absent place where nothing mattered any more. 

There! There it was.  Her heart leapt as she found the one thing she wanted and fingers rapidly cleared the dust from the front of the small framed picture. Lovingly she gazed at the sun bleached photograph, yellow with age, showing a young couple smiling shyly at each other.He resplendent in some bygone uniform showing duty to his country and she delicately pretty in florals and lace, bonnet trailing from fingers gently clasped between his.

Harry.

Even as she gazed the fog came and eyes clouded over, picture already forgotten falling into her lap and memories of him vanishing like mist in the sun. In the shadows of the room a figure waited, brass buttons shining on a uniform of old, boyish face echoing the love reflected earlier on hers. He could wait, he’d waited such a long time that a little longer would not hurt. 

‘Soon my love’ he smiled ‘ i shall see you soon’ 

Advertisements

Escape

Image

It should have been the stuff of nightmares and for all intents and purposes it was. She imagined time would have long since faded the memories but closing her eyes she could see with startling clarity events of a long lost youth playing inside her head. Hardly anything to smile about yet her mouth curved faintly upwards as she recalled some childish attempt at freedom. So simple in its innocence yet so profound in its efficacy, making her shake her head and marvel at an ingenuity borne of desperation from one so young. Had she really believed she could live in a tree?? Perhaps too many days seeking escape in tales of adventure had clouded her thinking yet this had been a most carefully devised plan. Childish yet naively effective if one did not look too deeply and seek fault where to her there there was none. Tarpaulins!! for a roof, she had decided, to keep out the rain and rope to construct all manner of furniture. Emulating heroes cast ashore on desert islands. Forced to improvise often most improbable necessities. That she had neither the skill nor the equipment to perform either task did not occur to her and hours were whiled away planning and dreaming of liberation.Waiting for the day to come when all would be prepared and the dream would at last be a reality. However unlikely this was, it afforded her a means of being anywhere but where she was and anywhere was better than here!!

She would have to hide she decided. The risk of discovery in daylight hours was too great a risk and so beyond the witching  hour was to be her time to risk leaving the safety of her refuge in search of food and supplies. Mentally forced to criminal activities in an attempt to survive she truly believed in the effectiveness of her plan. Blithely dismissing the small pang of conscience that prickled, telling herself this was unavoidable and not an option of choice. She knew well the difference between right and wrong for hadn’t she been taught it most frequently in the cruellest of manners, yet one sufficiently adequate as to produce the desired result. Yet even this did little to deter her. Hopeless misery obliterated all reason and she was beyond anything but a small glimmer of hope sprung to life in a well used imagination. Yes, a most effective plan were you not to examine it too closely and one most frequently put into practice, in her head at least, and strangely this was often enough. You cannot harm what you cannot reach and she was far far away happily swinging in the bough of her tree and that it was not real somehow mattered not at all. Yes she remembers and sometimes if you see her turn and smile at the sound of rustling leaves you will wonder if she is once again that small child. Adventuress and dreamer and inventor of a plan only worthy of the young.

back when i was ten

Back when i was ten the world seemed like such a weird and wonderful place. I lived in a world of books where rabbits could talk and tales of boarding school and tuck boxes were my things to aspire to. Oh i so wanted to go to boarding school, to be like those merry little characters in my books,causing mayhem and having untold adventures with exciting new friends. I dreamt of smugglers and sleeping on islands just like those five so famous and so real to me when young. For i believed everyone did this and quite happily made plans as sleep eluded me on many a night in bed. I sailed with amazons and fished with huck finn, solved mysteries untold and inevitably always made it home for breakfast as every hero should. Yes the world was a wonderful place back when i was ten.

Flying!! So much i wanted to be Wendy and soar over the tops of houses following a star and the ageless charming Peter, to battle with pirates and crocodiles,nary a care in the world but to live like the heros and heroines i so admired. I danced at the ball and lost my slipper on the stairs, fell in love with a beautiful beast. Cried inconsolably for The little Match Girl and made as merry as any with the infamous Robin hood.

Yes show me a book and i would dream you a dream, back then when i was ten. Yet perhaps i shall always be such an age as with each tale i am transported away finding solace in a world so far removed from my own. So exciting a life i lead within the realms of my own head as stories unfold and imagination takes over, heroine again of a fable not of my creation yet where i feel so very at home. 

As i pick up a book i find things have not much changed from back then when i was ten.

Come fly with me

As morning creeps in on a chilly Sunday i poked my nose from beneath the duvet, pronounced it rather too cold to move  and dived back under the covers. Much in the manner of all bears i am rather loathe to move at this time on a supposed day of rest although gym kit hanging jauntily nearby suggests i should infact be stirring.

Instead i let my thoughts drift to where i shall be in one week from now and i cannot help but get rather excited for my vampiric partner in crime and i will be heading for my very first air-show at Duxford!! I guess dating an Aviation Writer i was undeniably going to come into contact with planes of every kind, what i didn’t expect was to find it all so interesting and exciting. Of course we differ slightly he and i. Whilst he is in raptures over some sleek modern design, be it commercial or military, i myself am much more drawn to the much older matriarchs of the aviation world.Those beautiful old girls long past their prime, yet so elegant and proud and i love them all.

Give me B-17 Flying fortress’s and Spitfires galore. Bring on the Lancaster’s and the B-25 Mitchell’s and the oh so beautiful Sopwith Camel. Yes i am such an old fashioned girl and these echoes of the past draw me in and have me daydreaming of all the things they have seen and all the lives they have lived. My whimsical nature creates a story for each and gives them a glorious life all of their own, though in truth i imagine their realities were far more awe inspiring than even my imaginings could make them. In my thoughts they soar and fly and i fly with them free as a bird.

As i sit and write a Lancaster banks its way to a glorious descent within my eye-line, or so i like to imagine it anyway. A private joke between my boyfriend and i, the small model sits proudly upon a chest of drawers flying elegantly to the echoes of my gleeful shrieks as  i saw a ‘Lancaster’ fly over in the not so distant past. Soon to join it in its merry flying display, my own personal favourite the Sopwith Camel, out of time but definitely not out of place and the two shall fly a magical tattoo in my imagination at least.

This ‘Camel’ will be special for i am to build it myself. Perhaps i exaggerate some when i say ‘myself’ for i have never built a model plane before and will no doubt require much assistance from a boyfriend far more talented at this than i. But build it i will and call me a geek if you choose but i shall not care for i find it all rather exciting and cannot wait to bring forth this creation of mine. Hopefully the first of many for they say practise makes perfect do they not?

Yes the bi-planes i love, my favourites above all and seeing them in person is a feeling i cannot describe. You cannot help but be impressed by such beauty and such daring from those who flew with them. In my minds eye they soar and fly, a hero at the controls and the heart of an eagle within as they dominate the sky with such elegance and grace. Yes whimsical i may be but most definitely impressed by all i see before me.

So to Duxford we shall go and i have no doubt i will be unable to contain my glee for my inner child is impatiently hopping up and down and camera is already mentally poised. Sporting the most beautiful of flying jackets courtesy of my partner i shall feel very much the part and imagination will run abound in every direction. Come fire up your imagination and fly with me for i shall blog the day in all its glory. But for now the old girl’s sit and wait and so do i. 

 

MFZWWDPR2PZJ

back when i was ten

Back when i was ten the world seemed like such a weird and wonderful place. I lived in a world of books where rabbits could talk and tales of boarding school and tuck boxes were my things to aspire to. Oh i so wanted to go to boarding school, to be like those merry little characters in my books,causing mayhem and having untold adventures with exciting new friends. I dreamt of smugglers and sleeping on islands just like those five so famous and so real to me when young. For i believed everyone did this and quite happily made plans as sleep eluded me on many a night in bed. I sailed with amazons and fished with huck finn, solved mysteries untold and inevitably always made it home for breakfast as every hero should. Yes the world was a wonderful place back when i was ten.

Image

Flying!! So much i wanted to be Wendy and soar over the tops of houses following a star and the ageless charming Peter, to battle with pirates and crocodiles,nary a care in the world but to live like the heros and heroines i so admired. I danced at the ball and lost my slipper on the stairs, fell in love with a beautiful beast. Cried inconsolably for The little Match Girl and made as merry as any with the infamous Robin hood.

Yes show me a book and i would dream you a dream, back then when i was ten. Yet perhaps i shall always be such an age as with each tale i am transported away finding solace in a world so far removed from my own. So exciting a life i lead within the realms of my own head as stories unfold and imagination takes over, heroine again of a fable not of my creation yet where i feel so very at home. 

As i pick up a book i find things have not much changed from back then when i was ten.

Top Clicks

  • None

Top Posts & Pages

Top Rated

Follow xpanda1969x on WordPress.com

Twitter Updates

Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 2,278 other followers

Blog Stats

  • 37,121 hits

Top Posts & Pages

The KiltLander's Blog

JP's Outlander Recaps and other perspectives from the Dirk Side

Dionne Lister - Author

I love sharing my stories but I wish they wouldn't keep me awake at night

Great Scot!

Cultural Musings of An Outlandish Nature

clotildajamcracker

The wacky stories of a crazy lady.

Professional Moron

Daily Doses of Surreal Humour & Culture

Soul Love 11:11

Love That Transcends All Understanding

InfinitelyRemote Blog

Gateway to BlogDogIt.com

There By Candlelight Press

How many miles to Babylon? Three score and ten. Can I get there by candlelight? Yes, and back again.

Top 10 of Anything and Everything!!!

Animals, Gift Ideas, Travel, Books, Recycling Ideas and Many, Many More

PICZLoad pics a la carte

Watchout Loud and Have PICBliss!

Under Construction

Something is coming soon.

Jane Austen's World

This Jane Austen blog brings Jane Austen, her novels, and the Regency Period alive through food, dress, social customs, and other 19th C. historical details related to this topic.

eyE[before]E

in the land of the m[EyE]nd the one E'd man is kEEn

Perking the Pansies

Jack Scott's random ramblings

%d bloggers like this: