https://smashwords/books/view/278675 The dream was one of those big budget, Technicolor productions; vivid, in wide screen, with surround sound, for my exclusive viewing. I found myself standing at the centre of a low-slung, wooden bridge, overlooking a wide section of river. People were gathered on the grassy banks, either side, enjoying picnics, or taking a stroll. A band was playing somewhere in the distance, and no doubt, to complete the idyllic picture, romantic couples were dancing to the happy melodies that drifted with the swell of the river, to alight in my ears. I was able to hear clearly, the sound of the water lapping against the banks, birds singing in the treetops, the buzz of activity below me, and the excited shrieks and splashes of a gang of children, who were playing dare by jumping off the bridge into the water below. It struck me how dangerous this was, and I actually felt concerned about the safety of the group, who were blissfully oblivious to the perils of their actions. As I watched them, something on the river caught my eye, and I turned my attention to investigate. My curiosity transformed my glance into a gaze as I tried to determine exactly what it was that had aroused my scrutiny, and why it was so important for me to find out. As I looked on, my attention focused on a boat, a rowing boat, but there seemed to be no oarsman. Despite this, it was making steady progress along the river, towards the bridge where I was standing. Inside the boat, I could make out two figures; a woman and a child. The woman was talking to the child, who listened intently. But even from this distance, I could clearly make out every word, despite all the background noises. I took a step backwards, and a shiver ran down my spine as I recognised the two figures. The woman was my grandmother; she looked exactly as I remembered her, though, somehow, younger. The child was myself.
Posted on: Tue, 20 Jan 2015 10:15:13 +0000
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