Copyright Phyllis L Holt
For years she’d snuck away to this perfect little spot and shared her dreams with the swans. No one knew about it, this place, this perfect setting from which she spoke aloud her intimate thoughts with only the swans to listen. She smiled. Used to her coming and going, they didn’t bat an eye, simply choosing to sail on by or perhaps float somewhere near as though waiting her latest installment about her life. Marie loved that.
Her stories, spoken with simple words, hard hitting for all that. Sometimes they were tragic, sometimes sad, rarely happy. Her life was not and had not been a happy one. She’d fought the demons of hatred cruelty and fear to arrive at this serenity that surrounded her and for which she constantly reached and was assured of when she brought this memory to the forefront of her mind.
Years passed and her visits to her favourite spot grew fewer and the time lapse longer between. Life happened. Many years were to pass before she was able to return and she brought her two little ones with her, hoping to share this magical place with them.
Quietly they edged toward the water staying close to the bullrushes peering expectantly toward the water anticipating the swan’s appearance. They hunkered down on their haunches and waited. Suddenly appearing as if from now where, one appeared. Marie’s delight was immeasurable. Her eyes glowed then glistened with tears as she recalled her many visits to this delightful memorable spot.
The girls whispered then pointed. “Do they remember you, mommy?” Anna asked.
“I’d like to think so for I’ve shared many memories here and they listened patiently to my stories.”
“It’s magical, mummy.”
“It is Trudy, it truly is.”