30 July 2011

memories

by Julie Martin on Thursday, 14 July 2011 at 00:22
 
 
 Returning to this place was hard, so much had happened here. As I drive up to the old house,
 I can sense how different it feels. The front garden now over grown, thistles standing tall
 waving at me in the gentle breeze, 'welcome home john it’s been a long time' they say. I can
 still make out the stone path hidden amongst all the weeds.dad would spend hours in the
 garden there was never a plant out of place, you could see the pride glowing from within the
 flower beds.
       I do not feel the same urgency walking up to the front door as I did the day I left. I turn
the handle. So may emotions run through me as I step inside? The walls lay bare with
reminders of where the pictures once sat. The wallpaper is hanging off the walls. A musty smell
is all that’s left to greet me. I leave the door slightly ajar. The sunlight streams through 
illuminating part of the stair case. I can hear my footsteps on the wooden floor boards;
this was once covered in a patterned brown carpet,' it hides the dirt' my mother would say.
The sitting room is to the right of me. It seams smaller than I remember, still bright and the  
light pores in from the big old sash windows, though bare with paint peeling off the wood, 
I can see in my head the curtains that once surrounded them .The kitchens is still the same,
old yellow cupboards still sit in the place my farther put them, the glass is gone now.  I run
my hand over the table. We would sit here for our meals or just talking to mum while she
busied herself with chores. Even the sink brings back a time my mother would lay me
across the wooden draining board , my head over the sink washing my hair. She used
to tell me that she would bath me in that sink to. I was fascinated with the stories she would tell.
My only regret is that she is no longer here to tell them. I wished I was still that little boy who
could feel his mother’s arms around him just because he could. Laughter would follow the
tickles she’d rain down on me. mum would chase me up the garden and round the bonfire until
 we would collapse in to fits of giggles, I miss those days.
     Nervously I stand at the bottom of the stair case, unsure if I should go up there. Feelings of
helplessness surround my entire being, mum would tell me to wait down stairs, she would come
back to me soon. I would hide under the stairs in amongst the coats and shoes, muffling out the
noise that was coming from above,
     I was a teenager the last time I sat in hear, just 13. They had been quarrelling for what
 seemed like hours, next I hurd a dull thud, then silence. My heart was pounding I thought it
would burst out of my chest at any second. I didn’t know if anyone knew I was hiding hear?
Mum knew, she will come get me, she always does?

How the colour blue makes me feel

I have just completed my first open university course on creative writing and one of our activity's was to write a piece on how the colour blue made us feel, mine is just a jumbled mass of incomplete thoughts that to many probably wont make any sense, but they are my thoughts from that given moment in time.

Blue is how you make me feel , tired and frustrated that you don't understand .I see the struggles you face each and every day. I know how hard you have to try just to keep up and to fit in  I was once that child to. I want to make it better. I want to find that little boy with  whom I never had to fight. I want whats best for you even when you say ,you've made it worse mum,  I hate u  . blue is how I feel at 2am and your still not asleep , your screaming and shouting banging at the walls just because  you can 'mum mum'  can I have, if u were tiny again I would have come and held  you tight, rocked you to sleep no matter what time of the night . Blue is the colour  that my son makes me feel  but  despite his mannerisms and terrible traits , he is mine .


blue makes me think of warm  summer skyies and the seaside.fine dry  golden sand that crawles  between  my toes ,sand  castles  i'd make with my little red  bucket and spade and when I started to tire, I'd take  nap whilst layin on my fathers back whilst my mother would sit quietly reading her latest book. I can hear the light sound of the ocean swaying in the background.The gentle sound of  water rushing  back and forth effortlessly to it's own soleful melody.  So calming and peacefull I could stay hear for ever, breathing in the cool salty air watching  seagulls fly up high and the odd fluffy cloude  that  passes by being carried on the cool breeze the that intangles is self in my hair .

28 July 2011

This is not goodbye

No need to say goodbye
No need to shed an tears
I wish for you not to cry for me
For I am still hear
Though I may not be with you
I am still standing beside you
I'll be holding your hand
Though you may not feel me as you once did
I will hold you for eternity
And when the time comes
I will be waiting
Least don't forget me
Hold memories close to your heart
In times of trouble, I will be there to guide you
If you want to see me, just close your eyes
And in your minds eye, you'll see me smile
And always remember I will be waiting