Silver Tabby's Scribblings !

OLD TOM


They pushed his wheel chair near to the window, placed what passed for a cup of tea on the table beside him, and went to deal with next person.
“Did you watch … No, but I heard about … really, who’d have thought …”
There was something soothing about their inane chatter. The window was open. New mown grass, daisies, and wood smoke scented the breeze that danced across his memory.

August, it was, a late hay making, on just such a day as this. All scythes and pitchforks then, no fancy machinery making noise and smells. There she was. Walking across the fields, picnic basket over her arm, jug of cider in her hand, hair the colour of ripe corn. All the men stopped work - and not just for the lunch, neither, but to watch her walk. Like dancing it was. Well, they could look, but her smiles were all for him.

Rumble of wheels, footsteps. Another one washed, dressed, and left to sit by the window. Jolt, two pairs of hands pull him upright in the chair, and shake him roughly.
“Gotta keep wakin’ ‘em up or they don’t sleep at night. Like kids they are. Did I tell you about …”
hands pat his shoulder, voices drift away.

Her hands now, they were different. Rough, from working hard in the fields, but gentle. Always gentle. With him, with the children, with the grandchildren. She was always gentle. She loved to lie in their soft bed, talking over their day, making plans, always stroking his hair and playing with his fingers to soothe him into sleep. No-one touches him now, well, none that matter. Duty contact only. Toilet, wash, dress, chair. Not uncaring exactly, but impersonal.

Swallows are dancing in the sky, way marking, soon be gone now. He remembers how she loved to watch them wheeling and diving about house. Saying their goodbyes, she fancied. Well, she always was a dreamer. She was took ill in the Spring, when the Swallows were just arriving, and she died as they left, in Autumn. He wishes they would go now and leave him be. His memories have become painful.

His brain cries ‘Help me’, but his voice won’t work, Hands shaking, can’t reach the bell. Pain beyond pain, then a soft, familiar touch smoothes his hair. “Come to me, my lovely, I’ll take of you now”. Gentle fingers take his hand and, suddenly, they are young again. Tom and Kate, walking through the hayfield, laughing in the sunlight.

They pushed his wheelchair away from the window into a side room.
“Best leave him in here just now. Doctor’ll be along soon - there’s no hurry.”


© 2020

Re: Silver Tabby's Scribblings !

Oooohhhh! Tabby, that made me cry.

Re: Silver Tabby's Scribblings !

that was good Tabby, I had a lump in my throat at the end

Re: Silver Tabby's Scribblings !

You have to be pleased for Tom ... in a sad, reflective sort of way.

Re: Silver Tabby's Scribblings !

I could imagine that, even picture it, and found it sad but true.

Re: Silver Tabby's Scribblings !

Thank you all very much!

Re: Silver Tabby's Scribblings !

We had a tutor at Uni who used to throw six random words at us - and ask us to write a story using them all. Here is one of my efforts.

Words; Rich. Curiosity. Fire. Breath. Echo. Stars.

I am lying in the gutter. Wet, cold and abandoned. Just another piece of natures detritus. People pass me by without a second glance but I have known glory days. My life began in Spring when the sweet breath of April tempted me into unfurling and my vibrant, sap enhanced, green green shone in the sunshine. My stem was strong then and my grasp upon my branch unshakable. Then came Summer; her gentle kiss made me blush to rosy gold; her soft winds taught me to dance and sway to life's inevitable rhythm. They brought an echo from another time, telling tales of far off lands where the days are always warm and the nights are full of stars. Autumn arrived in a shower of rain. Her tears stroked my surface and transformed me into a rich russet glow, but her nights became cold and my grasp on life less firm. Sunrise hit the sky with a ball of fire and the North wind's cruel hand shook tree, and branch, and twig into nakedness. So here I lie. Maybe, just maybe, someone will notice me. Perhaps the curiosity of a child will lift me from this place, keep me safe, admire my shape, my colours and learn from me. Perhaps not.

Re: Silver Tabby's Scribblings !

Oh St that made me tear up.
Just so touching .

Re: Silver Tabby's Scribblings !

That was so evocative.

Re: Silver Tabby's Scribblings !

Thank you very much.