Friday, 13 July 2012

 This came runner up in the Write Invite Competition. The prompt was 'just one more thing'

The Yard Misses You

The sun is shining in the yard but light fluffy clouds cast a shadow over my head - or was that your absence? You see my dear, one can know something is going to happen, one can plan for that eventuality, but nothing can prepare for the reality. Nothing prepares for the feeling of emptiness.

I've got my boots, the duster and polish. And if you were here you would be telling me off for sitting in my stocking feet - tip toed in the gravel. I've even made myself a cuppa, but it's not the same. Too much milk I think, I don't have that sleight of hand. You always told me off for that too. Far too much polish on those boots.  A terrible waste, you would say. But you always patted my shoulder as you went back to your own chores. Your bite was that of a pup  and I have been blessed. There's many a man had to sleep with a Rottweiler.

You would have been hanging the washing out today. The wind is fresh, blowing the trees in the copse, terrible it is. I can hear it playing the leaves. I can hear you singing - that soft Irish lilt that used to make my own heart sing. You were happy in your work, never complaining all these long years.

I like to remember you bustling around in your skirts, seeing to the chickens, seeing to the kids, seeing to the farm hands and mostly seeing to me. I never made it easy, you used to scold. But I'm a plodder lass,  there's never been hurry in my bones. Life's for appreciating, no use hurrying around.

The yards is scurrying with activity this morning. The cat's had her kittens and the geese are hissing proud. And Nip, well he's running wild lass. But despite all of it,  the yard misses you.

That's why I'm polishing my love. Smearing my boots in the thick black paste - bulling them until I can see my sad face. The smell is strong in my nostrils.  It's the smell of normality.

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