About Me

Friday, 8 August 2008

The rescue of Green 10

I was attracted by your smooth, shiny exterior and the way that I could turn you in my hand and there would always be a star on your skin, a reflection of light, be it the sun, headlight or the kitchen light strip which flickers erratically.

It has been 1 year, 5 months, 3 days, 9 hours and 47 minutes since we first met and since then I have taken you everywhere with me. Some days I carry you effortlessly; my fingers fit perfectly in the space you provide. Other days, when it is hot and the air humid, I struggle to hold your weight and my arms become heavy and my fingers either slip from where they hang on to you, or they swell and I worry that we will be attached forever.
Sometimes I think I would like that, to have you with me always.

I have seen others like you, but they aren’t free. They live a monotonous life – rolling the same way and down the same lanes day after day. Sometimes I look at the others, their colours different to yours, you are one colour and the others are marbled with flecks of light. I feel guilty when I think about the others and I say sorry to you. I wouldn’t trade you for any of them. I promise.

My parents think that I am not well, they shout at me when I have you with me. They tell me to leave you alone, to put you back where I found you, to not be so strange. They don’t want a strange child. My mum always goes a shade of pink when she has to explain to her friends why I have you. She stutters and flusters, like a pigeon on the High Street trying to get out of the way of footsteps. Most of the time, she brushes the subject off with ‘ I don’t know where I went wrong, he clearly isn’t normal.’ I am normal I just have not-so-normal friends. My dad tries to grab your from me, but my fingers are always holding on tight. He has tried to take you in the night, he says it isn’t healthy or hygienic to have you in my bed, but because I am always attached, I know when he is trying. Last week I was grounded for nearly giving dad a heart attack. He had come into my room at night and was trying to prise you from my grasp. He had woken me up when he stood on the creaky floorboard; I like the fact I have a creaky floorboard, I like to think of it as an alarm, an intruder alarm, one that will save me from monsters and my dad. I waited a while, pretending to be asleep as he lifted my fingers one by one and just as he thought he was nearly there, that he would succeed in breaking our un-natural bond, I shouted "Boo". Dad jumped and hit his head on my model helicopter as he sprung to his feet, sending the model around in circles, as though the enemy had shot it down. He shouted at me, called me a ‘Stupid little shit’ and said something about being a freak for sleeping with you, before stating that he was ‘giving up’. As he slammed the door shut I chuckled and thanked you for giving me the idea.

You have never told me why you had come to be in the spot where I found you, but then I don’t know if I have asked you directly. I was just happy to have found you, mesmerised by your colour and intrigued by your name. I had been walking on the other side of the road, out of breath from the uphill climb and hungry for my dinner. The combination of maths and PE on a Thursday always made me ravenous for my dinner. I was already late but I couldn’t ignore you, I couldn’t leave you sat in the gutter surrounded by the wet autumn leaves looking cold. I was eager to cross the road, but it was gone five o’clock and workers were pouring out the city in a steady flow. I panicked that you might decide move on and not wait for me, so I ran, as quick as I could. Horns sounded, a voice shouted and I felt scared, but only for a moment, for once I bent down and picked you up, my fingers fitting perfectly into the 3 holes on your crown, I thought of how I was rescuing you and how that made me feel proud. I felt happy for I knew that I had found a friend for life.


sally cook said...

Jo - this is BRILLIANT! x x

Jo said...

Ah, thank you Sally, I really enjoyed writing it x x

Anonymous said...

I'm so loving this Jo, completely got me!