So back to the real world today. Not so bad actually -- only 100 emails in my inbox. Way better than I was afraid of :) I was sort of amused by the autoresponder wars. A few times a client who was technically on vacation would email me -- which my autoresponder would answer which their autoresponder
N it's a little thing, but I love having my digital picture frame on my desk. The photos make me smile every time they change -- which is currently set at 60 seconds, so that's a lot of happy moments. On the down side, I think I got a lemon :( It often randomly freezes and then none of the buttons will work and the photo won't change. Boooo. But so far turning it off and back on again seems to solve that, so we shall see. On the plus side, I love the quality of the display. Pics are super clear.
Gotta admit on days like this I miss teaching in the heated arena of my last job. My arena will be heated. One day :)
My magic picture frame just flipped past a castle pic I took in France that would work for a bg here... hmmmm maybe :) Still think I need to find a good dragon for the top corner first :)
Miss Sienna has been... Well... A teenager as of late. Sunday though she was absolutely brilliant, so I figure there's hope again :) I wanted to get a dq lesson or two in over the holiday but I was grounded due to a flat tire on my trailer. Booo.
Awwww magic picture frame froze again. And it always picks pics I don't care for to freeze on. Never quits on the ones I could stare at for hours. Sheesh. Booo on that :(
Ok time to go freeze... ummm I mean teach. Yeah that's it. Yeah for Tim Horton's gift certs! hahaha hot chocolate here I come!
Time flies...
Posted by
Lauren Cude Horsfall
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So I'm sort of amused that the first post of the year was fiction. Not sure exactly what that means, but I'm sure there's something to it. hahaha or maybe not.
So vacation's over -- back to work tomorrow. Somehow didn't get half the stuff done I wanted to. Booo. Ah well, such is life eh? And there's tons of white stuff on the ground. Not sure where that came from >;-P
Off in search of food!
So vacation's over -- back to work tomorrow. Somehow didn't get half the stuff done I wanted to. Booo. Ah well, such is life eh? And there's tons of white stuff on the ground. Not sure where that came from >;-P
Off in search of food!
Flash Fiction 19 – An Average Life
Posted by
Lauren Cude Horsfall
comments (6)
Ok so I pushed the word count a bit with this one. I even know what sections I *should* cut – but I’m rather attached to them, so they’re staying :) I hope you’ll read and enjoy anyways!
For those who've been here before -- what do you think of the new template? Server where the old images were hosted disappeared so I had to start over. Lesson learned!
Wishing you and your loved ones a fresh year of magic and miracles!
-----
An Average Life
It was New Year’s Eve. I was 25 years old and the world was mine for the taking. And I was alone.
The snow fell softly outside my window, lit by the vibrant lights of a town that was not mine. I was here to study history. Learning about a time that fascinated me, in the culture that arose out of it. I was an ok student, eager to learn and with grades strong enough to get into grad school. Barely. I’d been in the second round of acceptances and I knew it. Somebody else had had to decline in order for me to have a spot. Maybe several sombodies. But I was in – the hard part was over. And while I rarely had anything brilliant to say, I knew enough to keep my mouth shut and avoid revealing my ignorance. Through that, I came to be known as the quiet girl, but one who was worth listening to when she spoke. Yeah, I was surprised at that too; happy, but surprised.
I was afraid to leave the academic world. For while I was merely average here, I was afraid of being far less out there. My abilities were no match for my dreams. So when the opportunity to do post-grad work in France arose, I took it. I would never have gotten in had my peers applied; fortunately for me, the medieval studies department is run by academics, not marketing whizzes and nobody else knew about it.
So this is how I came to be alone, far from home, on New Year’s Eve. I didn’t have any friends – only acquaintances of the smile and nod variety. Theoretically we were working together; realistically all hoping to be the first to find and publish. Publish or perish – rule one of the academic world. Publish documents nobody outside would ever read or care less about, yet it all seemed critically important to those on the inside. And the few of us who saw it for the game it was? Well it was a game we chose to play, so we too followed the rules. After all, being average here was still pretty good – and there was never any shortage of intelligent conversation to eavesdrop on.
I sat up till midnight – even though it was just another night – watching the snow fall and contemplating life as it was, as it had been, and as it would be. Or could be. Maybe. The clock struck twelve, and I heard a knock at the door. I stared at it in disbelief – as though puzzling about it would reveal who was on the other side.
Convincing myself I had misheard, nonetheless I went and opened it. And was surprised at the crushing level of disappointment when there was nobody there. A knock at midnight. Right. Not in my world. Blinking back the tears of heartache that threatened to come, I almost missed the little package resting off to the side. Almost.
I picked up the wrapped box – although the wrapping was unlike any paper I’d ever seen. Almost metallic, it reflected the light in ways that made the paper appear to be made of liquid. There was a card attached and I opened it as I stepped back into my apartment.
“A lost soul,” I translated as I read, for it was written in a dialect of old French that few would be able to comprehend today, “sometimes, cannot find its place until its place is ready to be found.” Ok so that was weird.
I started to open the package, and as I did the strange wrapping fell away and disappeared. No, that’s not quite right – it’s more like it soaked into the carpet, much like spilt water. I could see where it went, but I couldn’t pick it up again, and after a few moments it faded, until all that could be seen was my ratty old carpet.
I looked at the box a little apprehensively after the mysterious vanishing paper trick, but excitement won out over caution and I opened it to reveal a necklace. A pendant, beautiful in its simplicity, appeared to be of Celtic origin. The chain it was on looked like silver but was so fine it felt like a piece of tinsel.
I picked the pendant up gently. It felt warm in my hands, and though it appeared tarnished, it was highly reflective, presenting a distorted view of my apartment. Ever so carefully, I tested the weight of it on the chain it came with. It seemed to hold. I did it up around my neck to find it fit just right.
I wandered to look in the mirror, tracing the unusual shape with my baby finger, as one might caress the scars of a loved one. The heat of the pendant on my chest warmed me straight through and the sensual tracing became hypnotic as the reflection in the mirror changed.
My apartment slowly disappeared from the mirror while I watched. It showed my walls becoming forests; my dying plants took on new life; my couch became a lake and the coffee table its beach. It was nighttime and my overhead light transformed into a moon. High above, yes, and yet so much closer and larger than I had ever seen it.
Gradually my reflection faded too – replaced by what, I couldn’t tell. The reflection was dulled until all that remained was the vision of the pendant. And with a blink, it was gone.
I looked around to find myself in a world that I almost knew. The colours were straight out of my dreams; close to normal but far more vibrant and alive.
I looked into the lake my couch had become and saw the moonlight reflected. A lightening bug danced out in front of me. There seemed to be a pattern to his movements, but at first I could not discern what it was; eventually I recognized the same script that was on the card.
“What do you want to see?” the little creature spelled out. My hand reached of its own accord toward the moonlit water while I pondered the question.
In a flash I was taken back to the time when the language of the lightening bug was the common tongue. The times I’d read and dreamed about became real, and I quickly learned that nothing I’d read or dreamed had come close.
I sat for months watching the years go by. I lived the lives of kings and peasants. I loved and I lost. I found disturbing similarities between their lives and ours, and differences so vast it astonished me that one culture sprang from the other.
But then, one day, something triggered a thought of home and the vision on the lake changed dramatically. I saw my own life, from the outside. I saw what had been, what was, and what could be. And I no longer felt so lost.
My eyes were scratchy, as though I’d left my contacts in too long. I was back in my apartment and my baby finger was still tracing the pattern of the necklace, which was no longer there.
I’d learned enough about the culture I’d come to study to write papers that would send the academic world spinning, and might even interest the outside world. And write them I did – but it would take several years to find enough proof so that I could publish. Suddenly my studies had focus and passion and no longer seemed like a game. And once out there, my papers held up to all peer reviews. Of course I couldn’t exactly reveal my sources, but by then I had others to back me up.
From this I found the life I’d been looking for. Making history come alive for others as it had for me. And while I never did leave the academic world, within it I found friends, family and a home. An average life, perhaps, but one worth living.
For those who've been here before -- what do you think of the new template? Server where the old images were hosted disappeared so I had to start over. Lesson learned!
Wishing you and your loved ones a fresh year of magic and miracles!
-----
An Average Life
It was New Year’s Eve. I was 25 years old and the world was mine for the taking. And I was alone.
The snow fell softly outside my window, lit by the vibrant lights of a town that was not mine. I was here to study history. Learning about a time that fascinated me, in the culture that arose out of it. I was an ok student, eager to learn and with grades strong enough to get into grad school. Barely. I’d been in the second round of acceptances and I knew it. Somebody else had had to decline in order for me to have a spot. Maybe several sombodies. But I was in – the hard part was over. And while I rarely had anything brilliant to say, I knew enough to keep my mouth shut and avoid revealing my ignorance. Through that, I came to be known as the quiet girl, but one who was worth listening to when she spoke. Yeah, I was surprised at that too; happy, but surprised.
I was afraid to leave the academic world. For while I was merely average here, I was afraid of being far less out there. My abilities were no match for my dreams. So when the opportunity to do post-grad work in France arose, I took it. I would never have gotten in had my peers applied; fortunately for me, the medieval studies department is run by academics, not marketing whizzes and nobody else knew about it.
So this is how I came to be alone, far from home, on New Year’s Eve. I didn’t have any friends – only acquaintances of the smile and nod variety. Theoretically we were working together; realistically all hoping to be the first to find and publish. Publish or perish – rule one of the academic world. Publish documents nobody outside would ever read or care less about, yet it all seemed critically important to those on the inside. And the few of us who saw it for the game it was? Well it was a game we chose to play, so we too followed the rules. After all, being average here was still pretty good – and there was never any shortage of intelligent conversation to eavesdrop on.
I sat up till midnight – even though it was just another night – watching the snow fall and contemplating life as it was, as it had been, and as it would be. Or could be. Maybe. The clock struck twelve, and I heard a knock at the door. I stared at it in disbelief – as though puzzling about it would reveal who was on the other side.
Convincing myself I had misheard, nonetheless I went and opened it. And was surprised at the crushing level of disappointment when there was nobody there. A knock at midnight. Right. Not in my world. Blinking back the tears of heartache that threatened to come, I almost missed the little package resting off to the side. Almost.
I picked up the wrapped box – although the wrapping was unlike any paper I’d ever seen. Almost metallic, it reflected the light in ways that made the paper appear to be made of liquid. There was a card attached and I opened it as I stepped back into my apartment.
“A lost soul,” I translated as I read, for it was written in a dialect of old French that few would be able to comprehend today, “sometimes, cannot find its place until its place is ready to be found.” Ok so that was weird.
I started to open the package, and as I did the strange wrapping fell away and disappeared. No, that’s not quite right – it’s more like it soaked into the carpet, much like spilt water. I could see where it went, but I couldn’t pick it up again, and after a few moments it faded, until all that could be seen was my ratty old carpet.
I looked at the box a little apprehensively after the mysterious vanishing paper trick, but excitement won out over caution and I opened it to reveal a necklace. A pendant, beautiful in its simplicity, appeared to be of Celtic origin. The chain it was on looked like silver but was so fine it felt like a piece of tinsel.
I picked the pendant up gently. It felt warm in my hands, and though it appeared tarnished, it was highly reflective, presenting a distorted view of my apartment. Ever so carefully, I tested the weight of it on the chain it came with. It seemed to hold. I did it up around my neck to find it fit just right.
I wandered to look in the mirror, tracing the unusual shape with my baby finger, as one might caress the scars of a loved one. The heat of the pendant on my chest warmed me straight through and the sensual tracing became hypnotic as the reflection in the mirror changed.
My apartment slowly disappeared from the mirror while I watched. It showed my walls becoming forests; my dying plants took on new life; my couch became a lake and the coffee table its beach. It was nighttime and my overhead light transformed into a moon. High above, yes, and yet so much closer and larger than I had ever seen it.
Gradually my reflection faded too – replaced by what, I couldn’t tell. The reflection was dulled until all that remained was the vision of the pendant. And with a blink, it was gone.
I looked around to find myself in a world that I almost knew. The colours were straight out of my dreams; close to normal but far more vibrant and alive.
I looked into the lake my couch had become and saw the moonlight reflected. A lightening bug danced out in front of me. There seemed to be a pattern to his movements, but at first I could not discern what it was; eventually I recognized the same script that was on the card.
“What do you want to see?” the little creature spelled out. My hand reached of its own accord toward the moonlit water while I pondered the question.
In a flash I was taken back to the time when the language of the lightening bug was the common tongue. The times I’d read and dreamed about became real, and I quickly learned that nothing I’d read or dreamed had come close.
I sat for months watching the years go by. I lived the lives of kings and peasants. I loved and I lost. I found disturbing similarities between their lives and ours, and differences so vast it astonished me that one culture sprang from the other.
But then, one day, something triggered a thought of home and the vision on the lake changed dramatically. I saw my own life, from the outside. I saw what had been, what was, and what could be. And I no longer felt so lost.
My eyes were scratchy, as though I’d left my contacts in too long. I was back in my apartment and my baby finger was still tracing the pattern of the necklace, which was no longer there.
I’d learned enough about the culture I’d come to study to write papers that would send the academic world spinning, and might even interest the outside world. And write them I did – but it would take several years to find enough proof so that I could publish. Suddenly my studies had focus and passion and no longer seemed like a game. And once out there, my papers held up to all peer reviews. Of course I couldn’t exactly reveal my sources, but by then I had others to back me up.
From this I found the life I’d been looking for. Making history come alive for others as it had for me. And while I never did leave the academic world, within it I found friends, family and a home. An average life, perhaps, but one worth living.
New Template
Posted by
Lauren Cude Horsfall
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Ok so I like this one much better! May sub in one of my own castle pics (once I play with it a bit :) but in general I'm much happier with this than the tree :) All I need is a dragon in the top left corner and I'm set! Anybody have a dragon they want to share? :)
Lost in an enchanted forest
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Lauren Cude Horsfall
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A video worth watching. It's a Ukraine artist - Kseniya Simonova, 24 - who tells the story of WW2 as seen through the eyes of an average person through sand drawings on an illuminated table.
An unusual talent, but very impressive.
So this time last year I was in NC -- and the weather was suitable for XC. Quite the difference a year has made. Well in some ways :) Still seem to be no closer to having my own stable *blah* but otherwise life is good. Superpony is ridable now (most days -- had a ride n a half today!) so that's a plus :)
Doing the New Year's Eve Movie Marathon thing. This year tis all Bond :) Next year maybe I'll throw a party -- that could be an interesting deviation from my usual "ignore the night" strategy. Although most of my friends seem to disappear to places unknown for New Years so might be less of a good idea. hahaha but we shall see :)
A short vid any who love fiction, or fantasy, or dreams. My fav of the lines: "When was the last time you got lost in an enchanted forest? or were kissed by a prince . . . who turned into a frog?" (the vide is only about half the length indicated by the scroll bar, the rest is credits :)
So of three things I intended to do today, I accomplished exactly one of them; and that only because I needed help with it and the person able to help me was available today. Sheesh.
I'm so not ready for my week off to be over.
An unusual talent, but very impressive.
So this time last year I was in NC -- and the weather was suitable for XC. Quite the difference a year has made. Well in some ways :) Still seem to be no closer to having my own stable *blah* but otherwise life is good. Superpony is ridable now (most days -- had a ride n a half today!) so that's a plus :)
Doing the New Year's Eve Movie Marathon thing. This year tis all Bond :) Next year maybe I'll throw a party -- that could be an interesting deviation from my usual "ignore the night" strategy. Although most of my friends seem to disappear to places unknown for New Years so might be less of a good idea. hahaha but we shall see :)
A short vid any who love fiction, or fantasy, or dreams. My fav of the lines: "When was the last time you got lost in an enchanted forest? or were kissed by a prince . . . who turned into a frog?" (the vide is only about half the length indicated by the scroll bar, the rest is credits :)
So of three things I intended to do today, I accomplished exactly one of them; and that only because I needed help with it and the person able to help me was available today. Sheesh.
I'm so not ready for my week off to be over.
The Joys of House Sitting
Posted by
Lauren Cude Horsfall
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So I'm house sitting this week (I know, kinda defeats the purpose of vacation eh?) and I went out this aft knowing it'd be reasonably late when I got back, so purposely left some lights on. Makes house seem lived in and makes me more comfortable coming in. All round good solution right? Except that when I got back tonight, the lights were all out. Definitely had me sitting in my car in the driveway questioning whether or not I should actually go in. Double checked the address, but really, I knew it was right. Rang the doorbell a couple times and waited a few mins. But other than the lights being out, the house seemed as it should. Thinking maybe they're on some sort of auto-shut-off or something? (ok dumb I know, but no stranger than lights randomly turning themselves off!) Come in the house, look around. Everything seems ok. But something that was on the floor when I left was sitting on the couch. Very creepy. Until I remembered noticing a cheque for the cleaning crew. And sure enough, it was gone. I'm not convinced the house is actually any cleaner, but it does explain the lights off and the moved item. Mental note though -- if you leave somebody looking after your house, tell them if who else is likely to be there! Sheesh >;-P
Off to sleep with me. Maybe.
Off to sleep with me. Maybe.
Temporary New Template
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Lauren Cude Horsfall
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So since my sunset has vanished (lesson learned -- all images to be stored locally!) tis time to find a new template. Really not fond of this particular one, but figured it'd do till I found a new one to love. This is where I wish I had artistic ability! Ah well.
So I'm sick and I'm tired and generally not impressed with the world. Blah. Signed on to do some writing but spent the time fidling w/ blog templates instead. Sheesh.
Ah well -- just makes tomorrow's "to-do" list all the more impessive eh?
So I'm sick and I'm tired and generally not impressed with the world. Blah. Signed on to do some writing but spent the time fidling w/ blog templates instead. Sheesh.
Ah well -- just makes tomorrow's "to-do" list all the more impessive eh?
Hope it's amazing :)
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Lauren Cude Horsfall
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Merry Christmas!!!
Happy Hanukkah!!!
Super Kwanzaa!!!
Fabulous Festivus!!!
Wonderful Winter Solstice!!!
Merry Three Kings Day!!!
Happy Eid'ul-Adha!!!
Super St. Lucia Day!!!
Awesome Omisoka!!!
Merry Boxing Day!!!
And if all else fails:
Have a Nice Day!
Happy Hanukkah!!!
Super Kwanzaa!!!
Fabulous Festivus!!!
Wonderful Winter Solstice!!!
Merry Three Kings Day!!!
Happy Eid'ul-Adha!!!
Super St. Lucia Day!!!
Awesome Omisoka!!!
Merry Boxing Day!!!
And if all else fails:
Have a Nice Day!
Flash Fiction 18: The Christmas Gift
Posted by
Lauren Cude Horsfall
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For those of you interested in the horse side of things, a good Christmas story (not mine :) on the GRS Blog.
Merry Christmas all - and an amazing new year!
Thanks for reading!
Cheers,
Laur
------
The Christmas Gift:
I watched as my brother, this year's Santa, handed her the gift I had chosen; I'd been looking forward to this moment since I'd found it in June. She was my best friend, and keeping it a secret so long had been incredibly difficult -- I'd had to force myself to forget all about it so that I wouldn't slip up. Fortunately I'd remembered in time to wrap it; if only I could apply that skill to exams!
But I’d have to be patient a while longer yet. My mother put the gift aside. She had a small pile growing, since she preferred to watch us unwrap our gifts to opening her own. And she had no idea that that box contained something special. I waited, feigning excitement over my own gifts while watching her open the others. A scarf, some books, jewelry. Nothing like what I'd found.
Finally she had my gift in hand. She unwrapped it mindlessly, far more interested in my brother's reaction to his new skis. He'd been so disappointed when they hadn't appeared under the tree, but accepted that they just couldn't afford them; it made it all the more wonderful when he opened the little box that told him where he could find his real gift in the basement. I could understand why she wanted to see that; I wanted to see it too.
But now he had his skis and Dad was bouncing for the opportunity to play with his new gadget. And finally she opened the box in front of her. The last gift of the day. She pulled it out and there was a moment's hesitation before she realized what it was.
She looked at me. The room was chaos, but between us there was silence. She had tears in her eyes, which was not the reaction I'd anticipated. I'd thought I'd found the perfect music box; just the style she'd seemed to prefer. Her collection was extensive, but they were similar -- this one combined the best traits of all of them. Or so I'd thought.
"Where did you find this?" she asked. Her whispered voice inaudible in the noisy room, but her eyes making the question clear. I went and sat next to her on the couch rapidly explaining about the little flee market I'd found in Port Elgin and how it was buried at the bottom of a box in a random corner of an antiques booth. And I knew it wasn't really antique but I thought it would go so well with her collection. And I really thought she'd like it. And did she notice the detail in the silver? and what did she think of... Well I was speaking way too fast and in circles, but I was confused and worried that my perfect gift that I'd kept secret for so long had somehow upset her.
"Come with me,” she said, rising. I followed, curious. "Girl moment," she told my dad with a smile when he questioned our departure.
She led me up to the master bathroom and opened the jewelry box I'd seen a million times growing up. From it she retrieved a tiny key; the type you'd see on a young girl's diary. She sat down on the edge of the tub and I went beside her, a million questions on the tip of my tongue and somehow enough strength not to ask them. She opened the lid of the music box and winding the knob on the base caused the dancers to swirl around to the sound of Haydn’s Cello Concerto. She watched it, mesmerized. And somehow I refrained from interrupting.
She held the box up, with two fingers of each hand supporting the base and her middle fingers running along the detailing on the side, as though she were feeling for something. Suddenly the music stopped and the dancers froze. Her right hand had moved but the left had not. She fiddled for a moment and with a click the left side gave. She smiled and gave me a look that reminded me of an excited young girl about to share a secret. Nothing appeared to have changed on the box, but clearly a latch had been released as she was able to slide the front face off. Behind that was a keyhole. To which my mother held the key.
I looked to her for an explanation, but none was to be had. I had the feeling my presence had been forgotten. I peered over her shoulder excitedly as she opened the little drawer. There was a penny, what looked like a felt four-leaf clover, a pair of children's earrings, some beads, and a little card. She picked up the card gingerly and held it to her heart with her eyes closed and memories written on her face.
Returning to the moment she gave me a smile and a one-armed hug and then showed me the card that meant so much to her. Written in a distinctive scrawl I recognized as having belonged to my grandmother who had passed so many years ago, I read:
A penny for wealth,
A clover for luck,
And all my love for always.
-- Mum
Merry Christmas all - and an amazing new year!
Thanks for reading!
Cheers,
Laur
------
The Christmas Gift:
I watched as my brother, this year's Santa, handed her the gift I had chosen; I'd been looking forward to this moment since I'd found it in June. She was my best friend, and keeping it a secret so long had been incredibly difficult -- I'd had to force myself to forget all about it so that I wouldn't slip up. Fortunately I'd remembered in time to wrap it; if only I could apply that skill to exams!
But I’d have to be patient a while longer yet. My mother put the gift aside. She had a small pile growing, since she preferred to watch us unwrap our gifts to opening her own. And she had no idea that that box contained something special. I waited, feigning excitement over my own gifts while watching her open the others. A scarf, some books, jewelry. Nothing like what I'd found.
Finally she had my gift in hand. She unwrapped it mindlessly, far more interested in my brother's reaction to his new skis. He'd been so disappointed when they hadn't appeared under the tree, but accepted that they just couldn't afford them; it made it all the more wonderful when he opened the little box that told him where he could find his real gift in the basement. I could understand why she wanted to see that; I wanted to see it too.
But now he had his skis and Dad was bouncing for the opportunity to play with his new gadget. And finally she opened the box in front of her. The last gift of the day. She pulled it out and there was a moment's hesitation before she realized what it was.
She looked at me. The room was chaos, but between us there was silence. She had tears in her eyes, which was not the reaction I'd anticipated. I'd thought I'd found the perfect music box; just the style she'd seemed to prefer. Her collection was extensive, but they were similar -- this one combined the best traits of all of them. Or so I'd thought.
"Where did you find this?" she asked. Her whispered voice inaudible in the noisy room, but her eyes making the question clear. I went and sat next to her on the couch rapidly explaining about the little flee market I'd found in Port Elgin and how it was buried at the bottom of a box in a random corner of an antiques booth. And I knew it wasn't really antique but I thought it would go so well with her collection. And I really thought she'd like it. And did she notice the detail in the silver? and what did she think of... Well I was speaking way too fast and in circles, but I was confused and worried that my perfect gift that I'd kept secret for so long had somehow upset her.
"Come with me,” she said, rising. I followed, curious. "Girl moment," she told my dad with a smile when he questioned our departure.
She led me up to the master bathroom and opened the jewelry box I'd seen a million times growing up. From it she retrieved a tiny key; the type you'd see on a young girl's diary. She sat down on the edge of the tub and I went beside her, a million questions on the tip of my tongue and somehow enough strength not to ask them. She opened the lid of the music box and winding the knob on the base caused the dancers to swirl around to the sound of Haydn’s Cello Concerto. She watched it, mesmerized. And somehow I refrained from interrupting.
She held the box up, with two fingers of each hand supporting the base and her middle fingers running along the detailing on the side, as though she were feeling for something. Suddenly the music stopped and the dancers froze. Her right hand had moved but the left had not. She fiddled for a moment and with a click the left side gave. She smiled and gave me a look that reminded me of an excited young girl about to share a secret. Nothing appeared to have changed on the box, but clearly a latch had been released as she was able to slide the front face off. Behind that was a keyhole. To which my mother held the key.
I looked to her for an explanation, but none was to be had. I had the feeling my presence had been forgotten. I peered over her shoulder excitedly as she opened the little drawer. There was a penny, what looked like a felt four-leaf clover, a pair of children's earrings, some beads, and a little card. She picked up the card gingerly and held it to her heart with her eyes closed and memories written on her face.
Returning to the moment she gave me a smile and a one-armed hug and then showed me the card that meant so much to her. Written in a distinctive scrawl I recognized as having belonged to my grandmother who had passed so many years ago, I read:
A penny for wealth,
A clover for luck,
And all my love for always.
-- Mum
Booooo :(
Posted by
Lauren Cude Horsfall
comments (0)
My blog appears to be disintegrating. Boo on that. Guess that's one more thing to add to the "week off". Sheesh.
hmmmmm do you suppose Santa might bring a new blog template? He's pretty high tech these days right?
Night!
hmmmmm do you suppose Santa might bring a new blog template? He's pretty high tech these days right?
Night!
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