Tuesday, 27 September 2011

Little Things

Two years ago my Nan was a blanket of shrivelled skin; wiry tufts of white hair spilled over the edges of starched sheets. Her eyes were the bluest I'd ever seen; as if she'd stolen all the pigment from ocean and sky. I don't remember how we came to be sitting there in hospital. All I remember was the rough grip of her hand, the feel of her bones as we connected. The watery glaze of her eyes joined with mine as she told me I was beautiful. It was the first and last time.

Sometimes it's the little things...

At 21, I was consumed by a plague of tiredness and endless tears, where the days ran into months and my mood never changed. I don't remember what led me to the kitchen at 2am, how the bottle of bleach came to be in my hands, or why I was so focused on the warning sticker above the barcode. All I remember was the guilty inner debate and the explicit realisation that I truly didn't want my life to end. The dance of hope in my chest was like the first glimpse of sun after a long cold winter. I shall never forget one thought; I wanted the chance for an afterwards.

It's the little things that give you faith...

When I was nine and it was my Granddad's birthday party, I was most excited to see my Great Uncle Tom for the first time in months. I don't remember all the fuss or why he had to leave half way through the day. I remember the stiffening of his slight frame as I hugged him, the fleeting wince of pain across his haggard face. It was the last time I saw him. I never said goodbye.

It's the little things that make you cry...

I was eight years old when I woke early that Christmas Day. At the end of my bed an old pillowcase spilled colourful presents like dominoes. I attacked them with fevered hands and widened eyes. I don't remember exactly how it happened. All I remember was thinking it strange how Father Christmas had the same wrapping paper as my mum. It was the slow dawning of that revelation throughout the day; something else I once believed in was not what I thought. I felt the loss of something I could not put a name to.

It's the little things that you regret...

Three years ago we visited Prague to celebrate my Dad's retirement. On our first day the weather clothed us like a second skin, the air was heavy but the sky was clear. I don't remember how or why we ended up drinking beer under a gazebo in Old Town Square. All I remember was the sudden torrent of rain that engulfed us and the clamour of twenty waiters holding up the gazebo with broomsticks as it threatened to fall. Soaked and shivering, I remember we were the only ones to laugh at the sudden change in weather. Sometimes, being British isn't all that bad.

It's the little things that make you smile...and thus the big things seem worthwhile.


  1. That was a lovely piece of writing, Lou. Thanks so much for sharing your slices of life...

  2. A collection of lovely paintings.

  3. Lovely to read your touching memories.

  4. There's a rawness to this that is very beautiful. Lovely.

  5. A great piece, Lou. Those little but profound emotions made life worthwhile. I love the way you put them together.

  6. Full on agree with sentiments aobve. Lovely

  7. it is the little things that make life meaningful.
    Happy weekend, Lou.

  8. Thank you for all the lovely comments everyone!

  9. Indeed! Your post reminded me of a favourite quote of mine: Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take in and let out, but by the moments that take our breath away...
    I guess anyone can share such moments, which we could never forget, one of the best I remember is when I cried while I was writing my 1st Tale Of The Rock Pieces... At the saddest moment, of course, when one of the best and toughest warriors cried in front of his ten year old son, as this strong father was one of the reasons all their people to be slaves of the most horrible and greedy human race - the Brown faces... I knew very well the end of my story will be more than happy, but couldn't hold back my tears, seeing this giant man with tears in his eyes, holding tight his young boy... ;).
    I guess you and many other book-lovers and writers would like a suggestion of mine? I'll use the opportunity to post it here: using sites like zazzle.com, cafepress. com, fiverr? They could be a good way to promote your works and to help "remove" stupidity in the streets like headlines on t-shirts, fridge-magnets, cups, etc: My Boyfriend kisses Better Than Yours, FBI - female body inspector, etc. Not everything we see and think of should be about sex, right? It would be much better if there were more nice pictures of mythical creatures, good thoughts, poems from fantasy genre, etc? I'm allanbard there, I use some of my illustrations, thoughts, poems from my books (like: One can fight money only with money, Even in the hottest fire there's a bit of water, All the problems in the world lead to one - narrow-minded people, or
    Love and happiness will be around,
    as all the chains will disappear,
    and Mountaineers will climb their mount
    and there won't be any tear!
    etc). I guess many people would agree these lines sound and look much better than the usual we see every day? Best wishes! Keep the good work going! Let the wonderful noise of the sea always sounds in your ears! (a greeting of the water dragons'hunters - my Tale Of The Rock Pieces)..

  10. allanbard: That is my favourite quote! It's pinned to my wall above my desk so every time I'm at my computer I see it. Perhaps I was subconsciously inspired by it when writing this post...thanks for commenting. I appreciate it greatly.

    Nikhil: Thank you! :)


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