Happy Memories.......runner up story printed in Prima magazine
Dad, you got around with a small collapsibe cane, which you inserted inside your jacket; beside a silver Braille fob watch hanging on a fine chain.
Standing on tiptoe I would slip my head beneath the curtains of our home, expectantly awaiting your return, Seconds later I'd share my triumphs and disasters of the day as I sat proudly on your knee.
Meanwhile, Mum, you felt your way around our neat kitchen, whistling as you made our tea. Your fingers inside the plastic mugs as the tea flowed swiftly from the spout.
Whilst you had been blind from birth Mum-you,Dad had lost your sight as a young man living in Coventry before heading alone to London with your battered suitcase and dreams of a normal life, while your family looked on with trepidation and pride.
A constant warmth and love shone inside and outside our home. On warmer evenings and weekends your bedroom window would be the post from which you, Dad, eavesdropped with your tape recorder- its reels whizzing, capturing our innocent mischief.
Later, you Mum, an accomplished pianist, would entertain us with games and noisy activities. Bedtime stories followed, delivered from Braille books, weighty and large. Your fingers raced magically across the brown stiff pages until one by one we slept and you crept away.
The sad full stop came when dad died suddenly in his mid thirties. No longer would I stand beneath him whilst he played his accordian. His Grundie tspe recorder and tangled reels gathered dust in cardboard boxes, where our voices curled and twisted never to be heard again.
Catherine, your eldest granddaughter now teaches, James, named after you, Dad is now a daddy himself. Caroline, our youngest, flourishes.
See how much warmth and love still shines inside and outside our home, because you both had the courage to see the light- even in the dark.
Comments
jolono | April 20, 2012 - 10:21
Really lovely Esther.
Esther | April 20, 2012 - 10:45
Thank you jolono; without the very strong dad I was fortunate to have I doubt whether I'd have become the fairly decent person I am now. I think of him when I am in London, I am visiting his sister, my aunt of course, tomorrow......who I didn't see for decades following the death of my dad. I always wonder how he managed the complexities of the underground system, escalators, narrow platforms etc. when I hear anyone playing the accordian; I smile and think of my lovely dad.
Silver Spun Sand | April 20, 2012 - 13:31
This really is beautiful,Esther...and belated congratulations for your success with Prima magazine. You must have been thrilled;-)
Tina
Esther | April 20, 2012 - 18:50
Thank you Tina; I have to say I was quietly chuffed; I think writing touches the heart if your words have meaning and passion.....makes writing easier I think. Once again my thanks.
Denzella | April 23, 2012 - 05:27
Esther,
Your writing touches the heart. This is a beautiful story quietly told.
Congratulations too on getting it published and I'm not at all surprised.
Moya
Esther | April 23, 2012 - 16:13
Thank you Moya.
skinner_jennifer | April 23, 2012 - 16:39
Hi Esther,
I too echo all the above and wish you congratulations
on having your story published, it must be such a
buzz to see it in the magazine.
It's a fact that they say people who are blind, use
other senses more than those that can see, which is
something I have always believed in.
Jenny.
Esther | April 24, 2012 - 18:22
Hi Jenny, yes, I was pleased to have my work printed. Mum used to say to me that she thought it would be more difficult to cope with being deaf; excluded from the world etc. She did have excellent hearing and could recognise people by their footsteps. I am told that my lovely dad knew the number of the bus by the engine noise it made.