One Shots

My Favourite Childhood Memory

The memory itself is vague but fragments still remain etched into the deepest part of my mind. My memory is of one person not a single memory itself.

Light footfalls echo off of the aged stone staircase where the see greets you from over the towering houses. The polished wooden door is swollen from the heavy rains and it jams half-way.

I see him before I hear him, his long face withered with age and a lopsided grin with mischievous eyes stare at me from the black leather recliner.

My grandfather, Bill, was a kind man that placed sloppy, wet kisses on my cheek only to be rubbed away by dainty hands. His aftershave was potent and fresh and his distinguished silver hair was neatly combed back.

He was a horse on his hands and knees as we raced around a make-believe world of fairies and goblins in the small living room of the old fisherman's house. The sweet aroma from the compact garden outside was relaxing yet left a buzz running through my still-developing muscles. I could almost taste the saltiness from the sea that stealthily snuck through the back door like a ninja.

I can see his neatly arranged pills in a blue container that was printed with each day of the week. The box was smooth and the mountain of pills and tablets inside looked like an old-fashioned candy store that sat untouched on a table of forgotten items with an old western novel underneath it.

His rendition of the song Clementine was peaceful and soothing. His voice was deep yet slightly hoarse and his eternally soft hands holding mine were a sign that he was still there in the dark of the night on a bed of uncomfortable couch cushions in the early years of my youth.

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This story has an important place in my heart.

My oupa was very special to me but he died in 2009. I wanted to honour him and landed writing my descriptive essay about him.

Please treasure those close to you as they may not be there one day.

Peace out
CupQuakeLover222