moments when everything changed

A moment…

This is a first: a shower in my new home. Standing underneath I feel the relief of hot water. I am exhausted to the core. Emptied out. Too much has changed. Is changing.

A new view to this daily chore. Happiness hovers as I realise this change is good. From one good shower to the next.

There was more. Our room. With its mismatching yet harmonious furniture. A printer’s bench with a history, repurposed. The garden; a perfect size. The lounge; open fire and high ceilings. Space and freedom.

I linger, uplifted by heat and home. The water is off and then it’s cold. Intensely cold and I hear them. Waiting for me. Was I too long, I wonder.

I open the door.

“What’s up?”

“Jeni. Your Dad passed away this morning. I’m so sorry.” He says, his features pained.

The shower is tainted in an instant. It has been assigned a moment. For the days since, I step under the heat and feel cold. I relive it.

I listen hard. Anxiety flutters as the water sprays out.

What news today?


Another moment…

I liked riding in your car. A permitted closeness. A private moment – only room for two. It was actually a van. An old Vauxhall Astra. It was battered but still signified your independence and maturity.

No longer that teen I shared a sweet 16 with. No longer the fledging adult I partied with at 18. No longer just my friend. Maybe.

I look at your profile as you drive. I look, beyond the length of time you’re speaking for. What do I feel? I analyse and look some more. This you I see is unfamiliar. This you inspires desire. It’s strange and I question it.

I’d always liked you. Always respected you. Always relished your company.

But fancy you? No. Not then. But now?

As I look at you on the drive to the beach I realise. This, what we are, isn’t enough. That moment changed everything.

Seven years on and when you drive, I look. I look and my heart swells like it did then.

The first time.


Life is made up of memories and associations that are linked to a time, place or person. Some are positive. Others are painful. Memories have always fascinated me and inspired much of my creativity. I am interested to hear of anyone else’s memory triggers. The smell of candy floss/your first kiss, for example.



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