Forgetting

They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but an entire life to forget them.

Room No. 33

The key to room number thirty three of the Esmeralda guest house clicked. He pushes the door back. Its pungent aroma wafted straight at him, gently brushing his face. With eyes closed, he inhaled; the smell was as familiar to him as his own body odour.

He laid down his small case by the dresser and went to the bathroom to freshen up. The mosaic tiled walls with their ornate Modernist whorls and the antique enamamelled bath tub brings a fond smirk to his face.  He opened the plain glass window to allow just enough air into the room to aid circulation, but not wide enough to awash the room’s scent.  Room no. 33 occupies the roof top of the twelve bed roomed guest house on Rue du Rivoli, a side street just yards from Notre Dame. The view from the room is romantic and private. If you lent and peered to the right from the room’s window, you can see the south side of Notre Dame, to your left the Sacred Hearts in Monte Marte in the distance.  In between were mired grey roofs of some grandeur buildings, some were just humbly quaint. The Parisian roof top has been the back drop of an eleven years romance. On this day, of every year, they would meet here in room no.33.

He had arrived early this time and so took the opportunity to take a nap. Lying on the bed, he reminisced about how it all started, how much she meant to him.  He recalls their first encounter, not so much the occasion itself, but how this enigma captivated his vision and worldly senses.

He sat at the other end of the dinning table from her so he couldn’t hear her.  He could barely see her either as his vision was shielding by an extra large barrister. But he knew she was there, he’d felt her pretence the entire three hours seated dinner. Short by French standards.

Being a smoker then, he craved and cherished that solitary moment after any meal, especially heavy meals, to enjoy his nicotine top ups.  The French home was old and housed a patio garden to the side forecourt. He lit up and began to inhale and exhale in quiet excitement.

“Excellent wines” she acclaimed. The voice matched its physical image perfectly; it was HER.  He was caught unaware and turned sharply. She stood, arms crossing her lower chest and had a slim cigarette in her hand.

“Yes, superb wines” he agreed. But he could tell that she hadn’t taken notice of what he had said. Instead, she was scanning him with squinted eyes, unpeeling him.  He felt uneasy and didn’t know what was crossing her mind.   She moved to his side while she puffed heavily on her cigarette.  There they stood momentarily. He waited for a cue to say something witty to her.  Nothing came to mind, eventually, defeated by his lack of sharpness less, he resigned himself to saying: “How do you know the ho……” She had disappeared just as silently as she had come.

Returning into the house to rejoin the other guests, he scanned the rooms for her, but she was gone.

The rest of the evening flattened out and he sensed great emptiness. Most of the other guests had left already by the time he had called it a night. He bid a thank you and good night to his host and made his way to the door. Feet heavy as he dragged himself to the bottom of the stairs. At the bottom, he was undecided was to which way he should go.  Suddenly a taxi pulls up in front of him. The back door opens. He looks to his left, his right and behind him, but there was no one. Like a lost puppy he straddled towards the car and peers inside.

“Come in” she said.  The door slams shut and the taxi commenced its journey, their journey. Where were they going? The atmosphere in the taxi and all around was silently calm. She faced ahead and was silent the entire journey. He pretended to be aloof yet found himself casting sideways at her as if to say - “what….?”

But it felt inappropriate to interrupt her silence.

The taxi pulled by a guest house. Just like a well trained dog, he got out of the car with a cue. She was already inside the reception and was speaking to the man behind the counter.

“Come up” she gestured to him as she ascended the stair case. He followed.

The First Time I Saw The Sea

The first time I saw the sea I was seven years old. My initial encounter with the almighty sea was pure fear and shock.  I was awed and frightened by its vastness.

Bare footed I stood at the beach’s edge. My entire vision was occupied by blue water. I was shocked that such a thing could exist.  The sound of the relentless thundering waves crashing against the rocks was deafening.

As I stood, motionless, starring out to sea, I could see a tiny boat in the distance heading towards the horizon. I gasped in horror as I thought it was going to go over the edge of the world.

“Look, look, it’s going to fall” I cried out, jumping and pointing at the same time.

But no one took notice. They were too busy fussing over boxes, bags and bulk.

Suddenly my sight was interrupted by the sounds of the roaring waves. I watched the same waters, repeatedly battering the rocks. The waves’ onslaught was awesomely violent.

Yet as I watched and listened, a regular pattern rapidly emerged. The sounds subsided and I began to see shapes that the foam a washed on the sand had made. I drew closer to the water’s edge, close enough for the wind to blow droplets of sea breeze onto my face, but far enough to be still on dry sand. Soon my face was saturated with moisture, I licked my lips; it’s salty.

Curiously, I edged close to the water, stretched out my arms and awaited the next wave to arrive to wet my fingers. Bitterly salty, Yuk. I wondered how much salt must have been poured into the water to make it so salty and who or what had done such a thing.

“Come on, get on the boat” called my father

I had been oblivious that people were boarding small rowing boats and ferried to a larger boat anchored some distance from the shore. 

“I don’t want to” I timidly replied

“Don’t be a silly girl” he said as he lifted me into his arms and wadded towards one of rowing boats.

I screamed, kicked and pulled his ears hard as I could, whilst squeezing my eyes tightly shut.

“I don’t want to go, no, please, please, please……..” I begged

Plop! My feet landed on the shaking boat’s deck. Silence. I was quiet as a mouse until we had arrived on the larger boat.

We set sail towards the horizon. We were heading towards the end of the world and no one seemed to care other than me.

The Doll (Daphne du Maurier)

" I loved you too much, wanted you too much, had for you too great a tenderness. Now all of this is like a twisted root in my heart, a deadly poison in my brain. You have made me a madwoman. You fill me with a kind of horror, a devastating hate that is akin to love- a hunger that is nausea. If only I could be calm and clear for one moment - one moment only!


If only I could be calm and clear for one moment - one moment only!

Untying The Knots

The entwined mesh: twisting and turning only makes it worse

Messy beginning, messy ends

I have tried with all my might to untie myself from you
Patiently, impatiently unravelling the ropes with which I am tied

My humour, self respect repeatedly  tested, milled and quashed

Today, alas, I say STOP, basta!

The last ounce of dignity  has been depleted

You leave me with no choice but lay the mesh to rest at the bottom of  the sorrow sea
Time and God’s creatures will be kind and untie all the knots

Good riddance I say not. But away I go with what was mine
I shall miss you until the end of time.

Butterflies

I’ve always described love as a butterfly. It flutters in; you pause, hesitant, where it will land? if it lands at all. If you’re lucky it settles a short distance from you. If this happens, your astonishment is followed by an up lift of well being.  Nervously you tip toe towards it, initially to observe it, to marvel at its beauty and instinctively for some innate urge, you want to touch it.

As you close in………….it flutters away

Empty Skies

Does it matter whether it rains or the sunshines? Does it?
Eyes filled with sorrows and regrets,  chest filled with pain.
My world is so very empty without your presence.
Oh, how I have missed you!