One day last week I walked to work, thankfully it was not raining, as we headed into a cooler phase before the rain came back again.
Ahead of me I spotted two teenage girls, probably about 13 years old or so, dressed in a school uniform with bulging rucksacks standing with an elderly lady who was holding a purse. The lady extracted something, probably money and handed it to one of the girls, who in turn gave the lady a hug and a kiss on the cheek. The girls walked on, possibly to school and the lady in the opposite direction.
|Image courtesy of Google|
My mind cast back to three decades ago, when my Grandmother would often pass me a pound note, yes they were pound notes then not coins and tell me to get myself something. Even in my teenage years I would save the money and buy a book.
I loved nothing more than heading to Smiths in the High Street and wandering along the bookshelves and every so often bringing a book, lovingly selected home.
The memories kept me company as I continued my short journey and I was acutely aware of how much I miss my Grandmother, her wisdom, practicality, laughter and presence. Her ability to simply be aware when something was wrong or troubling me. I miss being able to talk with her and discuss my decisions and share a joke or two.