Memories are made of this

Esther wondered if their was life after death just as she wondered where her dad's lost family had gone.

Why hadn't any of the letters she had been sending to her Nana in Coventry been answered. The last time she had seen her had been the day of her dad's funeral when petals scattered on his bed; from the wreaths people from all around had sent to show their sadness at his loss.

How could any of them known how their lives would change; once they buried him low in the ground and shut their door at Swindon Close for that last time. Heading for another world where few would or could know of their lovely warm, re-assuring past as the braille clock in another world ticked from one comfortable moment to the next.

She wondered if her dad knew what was going on and again about heaven and hell. To her, in that moment, on that chair in the garden in another town, it seemed that hell was in fact there. Her step-father, who she could never call dad, was the one that held the key which took away her family's dignity and self respect.

It didn't seem right, as she stood on the wobbly chair in the garden where weeds throttled life, that she was still so mad with her dad for leaving them as she did. Just as it wasn't right that she was so mad with her mum for bringing him into their home. A stray and wounded dog who growled its orders but didn't bite just waited for more isolation he could never see that he created for himself.

The street was slowly filling with people returning from work; mostly women rushing home to sort out their families dinners. Most worked in either machine rooms stitching uppers to soles of shoes that would soon pace the world or in the packing department; ready for dispatch.

She had seen the reflection of Mick the baker/butcher also; his bread basket empty passing by. There was Doctor Bell going to visit a man two doors down who wasn't long for this world Esther had heard someone say; as they bought their players cigarettes as their corner shop. That shopkeeper seemed to know everything about everyone but said he kept most to himself!

Esther didn't know then as she stood on her chair in the garden that no grievance was worth the pain; however justified it might be or that grievances that carried on through life cost too much. Nothing was worth giving up your sanity for.