memories

MEMORIES

I remember the first time I was seen by someone in the house, I was just having my usual wander around, admiring the paintings, floating though the walls and up and down the stairs when out of the library came a lady,  well I think it was a lady! She was not wearing a dress like me in fact she wasn’t wearing a dress at all, it was something like trousers but not any trousers I was used to seeing, trousers on a lady whatever next! Anyway she stopped right in front of me, looked, rubbed her eyes, blinked a few times, turned around and looked at me again I wanted to say “boo” but I think she would have screamed if I had, she put her hands up over her face and peeked though her fingers “it’s not real” she said I thought cause I’m real or you wouldn’t have been able to see me, I floated off though the library wall and left her where she stood.

I love the library, the smell, the feel, the atmosphere, I wandered over to my favourite window, the one that looks right down the drive, I love that view, I never get to go outside I’ve tried a few times over the years but never make it though the door, I somehow always end up back at the top of the red staircase, ahhh the red staircase the beautiful carpet that used to be here has gone now,  a lot of things have changed, the people especially, we get all sorts coming here now, some stay in the extension that was built a few years ago just where the old abbey used to be, some speak in a language I haven’t heard of, strange languages from far off lands, some speak very similar to me but with new words I don’t understand some of which don’t sound to good coming out of the mouths of ladies.

I used to love walking around the gardens, all I can do now is watch though the windows as the seasons change, spring with its fresh new growth, the warmth of the summer, the colours of autumn, the fresh white of winter snow and the crispness of early morning frosts, the gardens aren’t looking as good as they did, the fountains are gone, not sure why, they were lovely especially in the summer with the cool water lapping over the cold stone they’ve been filled in now, not as many flowers as there used to be, the gardener here has it all to do on his own, I wish I could help him, I loved gardening, growing flowers from seed, tending to them, watering them, then planting them out and waiting, till the flowers came making the garden glow with colour, the yew hedge is still looking as good as it did when my father tended to it, he would spend hours out there every weekend trimming and clipping till the sides were straight and the top as flat as the floor, the sundials were my favourite place for me to sit and read on long hot summer days, the house was used by me and my family back then, a family home full of laughter and joy, a large fire roared in every room, a warmth that is still felt by people who stay here, I hear them talking about it and wish I could tell them how it used to be, how we danced in the drawing room at birthdays and weddings, I’ve heard they can do weddings here now in the little chapel downstairs, that’s what I wanted, to be married here and dance with my love around the house, to walk in the grounds by the river at twilight under the light of a full moon, how we played games under the shade of the trees, the old sycamore at the front is my favourite tree here, its stands so tall and proud, its been here longer than I have, watching the goings on, people coming and going in all manner of ways, by horse, by coach, now by things with wheels that make a lot of noise and still it stands and watches as I do in this house where I lived and loved, where my heart was broken and my life taken.

©Mills Laine