Distant Memories

• Emmeline Heriot, Grade 8, St Patrick's College
• Short Story
• 2017

Excellence Award in the 'Spread The Word 2017' competition

Almost everything is still the same. The cobblestone path through the front garden still cracked and uneven, the curtains still a hideous shade of mustard yellow, the pink lilies still swarming the garden, even the air feels the same - fresh and light. But there is one thing that has changed. There is no grandma waiting for me. Sitting and drinking tea on the old garden set awaiting my arrival. Her bright blue eyes would light up as soon as I would walk through the gate and her pink cheeks would start beaming.
The house feels lonely, like all of the life had been completely drained from it. Baking lemon tarts with her, foxtrotting around the living room to her old records, all distant memories. Too distant. It's like they don't even belong to me, they belong to someone happier.
The old sewing machine looks deserted and abandoned, almost like it's staring off into the distance. "Precision is the key." she would tell me over and over again as we both sat quilting pillowcases.
The floral couch's bright colours has seemed to fade. The couch where we'd watch Breakfast at Tiffany's, with her cat Nina cuddled up between us.
I slowly took a seat in her old rocking chair. She would sit me on her lap and rock us back and forth whilst telling stories. Stories full of fairies, romances, villains and heroes, stories that left me in awe.
I knew that she had to leave at some point, she was getting so weak. But I didn't know it would be this hard, to come back to this house where everywhere a blissful yet detached memory resurfaces. Tears start to run down my cheeks I try to wipe them away quickly but they fall relentlessly. I need to be strong for my grandma, she never cried and I promised myself that I wouldn't either. Grandma was always happy and optimistic, she didn't even cry when grandpa died.
"Don't be upset my love." She would tell me stroking my hair "These things happen and it's up to you to move on and become a better person from it." Every single day I would come home from school crying and she would be there comforting me until I calm down.
Although she's not with me I feel her warm hand against my cheeks wiping away my tears. I imagine her right there with me until I stop sobbing. Then I look around. I see myself as child running past the pink lillies, down the stone path into my grandma's arms. I see myself as a thirteen year old laughing at a movie grandma and I were watching together. I see myself as a seven year old trying to quilt a pink and blue pillowcase with my grandma right at my side guiding me. I see myself as a toddler, curled up on grandma's lap dozing off while she tells me an amazing story. Then all of a sudden everything feels okay.