Memories are made of this

Their new home
James stopped and went to light a player’s cigarette, now standing against a shiny delivered metal dustbin. Quietness permeated the air, broken by children’s squeals, as they played free in the glade nearby. A dog barked right at the bottom of the neighboring garden and that sound made him feel more at home, as he thought of their own little terrier at his folk’s house in Coventry. His ma and pa had already left and heading home to his younger sisters; at last sharing his delight and promising to help them both, but as they pointed out ‘without interfering’.
It all felt too good to be true, what with a new house and a new baby girl, Esther named after a relative. She was born on Dec 29th at 4pm. What a beautiful baby he was told by the midwife who laid her in his anxious arms, running his large hands through her tousled black hair. Her feisty lungs filling the air, settling now, breastfed nestled deep in her new mummy's arms. They had both held her close whilst bitter sweet tears had flown and stung their eyes. They proudly, smoothing, touching, and exploring the skin of their little girl, who they had fought so hard to keep. How sad that they might never know who she might look like, although they could touch and smell her and know she was all theirs! What relief they had felt upon hearing her eye-sight seemed fine which proved miracles still happened. James would be there for there little girl and always love her whilst he drew breath. At that moment, James felt so strong and proud and sure he would be part of her days forever as the sun set and the light spilled into their shared happy and contented lives.
Oh how determined he was now to show to the world that blindness wasn’t a barrier, yet so aware that doubt arose from the wider world. He had already telephoned a neighbour of Laura's parents, informing of their new grandchild, but there had been no response so far. To him it seemed so unfair that they had the right to block any attempts to visit their own first born son now back in the Shires. Where are those ruddy keys?” Still muttering his hands fumbled over the smooth fresh and shiny surfaces including the cold sink, heaped high with an array of boxes. Then he heard a ting and a clink as the key slipped to the tiled floor. “Found them, what an idiot I am!”
It seemed just too good to be true. Perhaps he would awake to a deeper darkness and loss. He heard at that moment, voices again carrying in the air. Ordinary events to most people, yet so special to him. Perhaps he should try and go and introduce himself to their new neighbors, but maybe not! His thoughts returned to his parents assuming half of their journey to Coventry was now completed, he hoped. No doubt they had pulled into a transport cafe for a cup of tea.
How amazing they had been, and not stopped since arriving early that morning, rushing back and forth to the borrowed van which was stacked with donated furniture from their family and friends in the Coventry area. If you wanted someone to succeed, then you gave out positive words of encouragement was that too much to expect?
He thought of Laura and how she would be expecting him to ring her. It was practically nine, and she would be sitting there in that draughty hospital corridor which smelt of carbolic and unidentifiable odours, longing for his call. Where though was the phone box? How stupid of him, and what a silly sod he was! He should have asked his ma and pa before they left for their home in the van. He unfolded his thin collapsible cane and felt his way to the front door and moved forward, just wanting to get on with his life and proud with the child they now had. How could he ever dream of giving up?