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Musical Chairs

The love the man has for his wife is discernible, even from a distance. Each step she takes is patiently and gently supported and encouraged by him. As they draw closer I recognise them and even though the woman has aged considerably, there is still an outline to her than makes her appear familiar.  The man remembers me.  As a child I played with their children.  Attended the birthday parties where she, the woman dressed the table top with coloured paper and cups filled with chocolate fairy cakes and dainty bowls of trifle.  She even played the piano for the game Musical Chairs.

The man asks her if she remembers me.  But she shakes her head as confusion floods her face.  I say what a lovely day it is, how the air has changed, the wind chasing away the rain clouds.  When I bend to embrace the small woman she takes hold of my hand and will not let it go.  It's as if an inkling of the past has stolen into her mind.  Perhaps a vague fuzzy memory of a small shy girl standing at her front door, all dressed up, my scuffed shoes disguised with a lick of brown polish and how, when she played the piano, we, the children circled obediently around the empty chairs.  Full of anticipation we waited.  For the lifting of her fingers from the piano keys.  For a sign that the music would end.....

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Circle of life

Circle of life - And it moves us all!

This is so deep and so beautiful, Mary, I truly love it!

Thank you very much for your wonderful, thoughtful, inspiration.


Catherine Nagle