you and me – POSTCARD #24
This postcard is pretty special to me as it was sent by my Grandmother who is a pretty special woman. Written in her elegant handwriting on the other side were these words.
This is a card I bought when you, Grandad and myself went on holidays to the UK all those years ago.
Love you heaps,
Grandma & Grandad.
So here is my word, Yas : Memories!
The women meet under the clock in the centre of town and eat their lunch together. It’s been like this for so long, if you asked them how it began they would have a hard time remembering. But the one with the slender calves and blue pencil skirt would speak first, she’d say, We can tell you how it is now if you like?
You remember those hot summers as a child, on the lawn in your bathers, running through sprinklers with your sisters? Remember trying to catch the rainbows?
You nod. It’s been a long time since you thought of that. You like how the memory is like an old home movie, saturated in colour, moving slowly like a dream.
She smoothes her skirt.
You remember climbing the tree and finding the bee hive? Watching them out on the thick limb, your terror turning to delight as you realised they meant you no harm, how the buzzing and smell of freshly cut grass lulled you to sleep up there?
You remember the shock when you woke with a start, as dusk descended with a few benign bees crawling over your arm.
So this is what you do? You ask, Remember my childhood?
The blonde in the grey blazer looks up shyly from her sandwich.
You remember the song playing when his fingers first laced through yours?
The time at the carnival, up on the ferris wheel, when he told you you never had to be scared again?
You remember waking up in arms that held you tight even in sleep?
They go back to murmuring amongst themselves as you swallow hard.
You remember everything? You ask.
They look up at the clock and answer together, Only the good things, honey, we don’t have time for the other kind.