So it’s official...I’m an “ex” now.
That huge cream coloured gate won’t allow me in now, that chair on the right in the fifth row won’t have me anymore.
The stone chips on the floor refuse to listen to the tic-tac of my ballerinas anymore.
That staircase to the library won’t let me sit there anymore.
That thick blue Hercule Poirot on the third shelf won’t feel my fingers through its pages anymore.
The musty smell of the Times World Almanac won’t flood my senses before a quiz anymore....
But two legs hurry through the cream gate. A red bag still finds its place near the leg of that chair. A pair of hurried ballerinas pace over the stone-chipped floor. Tears of a pony tailed girl still stain the blue collar of her friend sitting on the sixth step of the stairs. A bespectacled teenager discovers the joy and magic of Hercule Poirot, runs her finger over the magical print. Three heads huddle up to read through the almanac.......
Tears in my eyes, smile on my lips, I know I’m there somewhere devouring that smell....still.