Contemplating Moving On! Another 1000 words

It felt so good yesterday to write 1000 words,that I decided today to repeat the challenge and go for another 1000, not consecutive to yesterday’s blog but still on a contemplation. http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/03/inspiration-images-1000-words/

Contemplating Moving On!

She sat, surrounded by her clutter, years of the past, photographs, books, clothes, hair grips, elastic bands,  all lay scattered around her.  She started to tackle the mess. Many times in the past she had picked up her daughter’s grey skirt, the first one that she got when she went to the private school, after they had moved. Each time she would fold it up, and put it back on the pile to deal with another day. There were periodicals and subscription journals going back ten years or more – she kept them “just in case”. Just in case she needed that long forgotten article that was in the magazine, right at the bottom of the pile. Yeh right! She had had a few quiet weeks at work, and now that her daughter was back at Universtity after the Christmas break, she was going to tackle the pile. Today she meant business, today was the start of the rest of her life, today she was moving on, and she contemplated what her bedroom would look like after she had finished sorting.

She started with the skirt, carefully picking the name tag off and folding it and began to make a pile for the charity shop. She fetched carrier bags for the rubbish and the grey container from the kitchen for recyclable plastic and paper. Bit by bit she worked her way through the mess that had become the floor at the bottom of the bed. Socks were reunited with their partners, not that her daughter wore them like that, and unpartnered socks were added to the sock bag, she was not going to get distracted today. A pile of clothes was found at the bottom of the wardrobe -summer clothes- which had been taken out of the case where they were stored over the Winter. She went to Iceland for the New Year and needed the case. Carpet was beginning to re-appear, although admittedly much had been transferred onto the bed. Could she clear up enough so that she could get into bed without putting the pile back on the floor tonight?

Amongst the pile on the wardrobe floor was her wedding veil. She picked it up carefully, the sequins glistened like tears, tears that she had cried at the ending of her marriage. She hung the veil up on the curtain pole, and put the glass dragonfly that her daughter had made for her, on the veil. The dragonfly, the symbol of their wedding day, sent out on the invitations and on their order of service which they had made together themselves. The dragonfly, picked because it was significant for him and because it matched her favourite colours, the shimmery blue-green of the wings, and she had woven it into a pond theme for the day.

How long did the life of a dragonfly last?

How long did her marriage last?

She often wondered  had they had chosen a more long-lasting creature, if it might have lasted longer.

Now they hung as a reminder of a better time, not that long ago.

“Got to move on” she said to herself “and put my dreams away.”

She continued to sort out, recycle and throw away, amongst them:

Mr Potato Head with Velcro-able facial features. She remembers her daughter’s Father making faces with it, her daughter probably doesn’t.

Ballet slippers-nearly new- she remembers sewing the elastic into them just before her daughter announced that she wanted to give it up.

Bailliere’s Nurses’ dictionary- hers from 30 years ago,

The Little Oxford Dictionary-hers from 40 years ago,

King James Bible-hers from her brother’s wedding-8th July 1972,

A leotard-it would hardly go around her daughter’s leg now,

2 scarves given to her as a present by her daughter-picked with Auntie Lynne’s help,

tickets from the Paris Metro-only a few weeks ago,

letters and cards from Mummy to Poppy Pandora

letters and cards from PP to Mum,

a letter to Santa with precise request including Argos catalogue page and number,

numerous pens, hair bands, hair grips, lipgloss, rubbers (that’s erasers to you Yankies) rulers,

a photograph of her and her aura-she wonders what it would look like now?

A key-ring-wooden bought in the Brecon Beacons

P.E kit from school. How annoyed was she when the school announced that they were changing the kit, the year before Poppy left and everyone had to have the new kit. She had been careful with money, always making sure that there was room to grow into school uniform!

On finding the key-ring she stops and finds her bunch of keys. For the past 7 years she has had a silver key-ring with her initial on it, bought by her husband to be back then. She swops them over. The wooden key-ring is warm and tactile, unlike the cold metallic one. It reminds her of her old home, whose key used to hang from it.

Oh how bright the future had seemed back then. She had found someone who she had trusted enough not to hurt her, trusted enough to give her heart in marriage, but then, oh how he had hurt her. The fragile glass ball that was her marriage was shattered into a thousand crystal pieces, and try as she could, the glass ball could not be put back together again, not without huge cracks showing. So swopping the key-rings over, she hoped would be a talisman, a sign that she had moved on. Contemplating life without him was hard, but nowhere near as hard as life had been with him.

She looked at the somewhat smaller pile now. Much of it was going into the drawer where she kept the memories of her daughter. The ballet slippers, the leotard, the scarves,, and now there was space on the floor at the bottom of the bed. The double wardrobe, which for as long as she had lived there had only had one door, had been de-cluttered. She could now think about getting a joiner to make two new doors to match the rest of the furniture, She picked up one last thing from the pile, it is her “Songs of Praise” hymn book from when she was at school 40 years ago.

She opened it randomly and read:

“Father to thee we look in all our sorrows

Thou art the fountain whence our healing flows

Dark through the night, Joy cometh with the morrow

Safely thy rest who on thy love respose”

The tears start to flow as yet again God has shown her how much he loves her and cares for her, in such a tender, loving way.

Good Night God Bless x

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