To S___ on High Street it would be the time when the names were erased. She counted them up, window-shopping in the spring sun. The names that were now gone, in such a brief spell of time. Sam T and Granny F. Uncle, suddenly. The fit guy in the year above. And now they disappeared off the TV and magazines. Icons, faces she loved and cared about. Time had been luscious and now it was cheap. The summer ahead was loose change. Comes to nothing. And who to turn to? Who would go the distance with her, in her life?
Did I even wear spectacles when I began all this? My hair was thicker, definitely: brown, remember? Now it is thinned and grey. It needs to be cropped short. I was slim then too, though I didn’t think so at the time. Out of shape is what I said. I looked at myself; looked at the kids coming through. Their wee bandy legs and enthusiasm. They’ve done well. Better than I could’ve hoped. But they grow up and leave, filled with urgency, pride and belief in themselves. And I remain. Some say I could have stopped them. But that’s family.