Writing for Fun
Captured - Diane Silverston
March 2014
'Click.'
Henri settled back into his chair and surveyed the scene in front of him. To anyone it was just a normal sunny, Spring day: families enjoying themselves in the open air. Groups clustered around picnic tables, by the swings or just running around. Children exploring and finding new interests. It was a glorious day, with blue skies surrounding the blossom filled trees. Spring flowers bursting out and displaying their colours. Everyone was relaxed and happy.
'Click.'
Henri again looked at the scene around him, but he was remembering another time.
It was sixty years ago when he was last here, on a day not so different to now, He was a young man then, just starting out on his future career. Everything in front of him, everything to aim for and achieve. He had seen her settled on one of the park benches, reading, eating her sandwiches, lost in her book.
The space was like many parks in the area, open greens, blossoming trees and planted beds: swings, roundabouts, tennis courts, and a bandstand. Families were out enjoying the fresh air and time together.
Suddenly the young lady had got up to move on. Henri noticed that she had dropped her book and had gone over to retrieve it. They had spoken for a few moments, realised that they were going the same way, and had walked off together.
Henri and Mary had met quite often in the following weeks and soon Summer had started. Their friendship had become something more and they had spent weekends together, touring the countryside in his little car, often stopping at a country inn for a night.
In the middle of August Henri had explained that he had to return to France to see his family but he would contact her on his return.
Henri had returned in the September and had been immediately offered the job he had always wanted. It had meant he would have to leave the area and move to London. He had accepted the job and hadn't contacted Mary again. Had he regretted that decision? Not then but later in his life.
Henri liftedhis camera, focussed on the scene in front of him.
'Click.'
Once again he settled back in his chair. Then out of his pocket he took a faded black and white photograph, and stared at it. Looked up and around, then back at the picture in his hand. Not much had changed really. The trees were different, the children's play area was larger and brighter, but on the whole not so different from 60 years ago.
Would it have made a difference if he had known the truth all those years ago? Would he have stayed? It was too late now to change things, but he realised what he had missed through those decades.
Once again Henri looked at the photo in his hand, a young couple walking in the park, hand in hand, smiling at each other, happy, contented; he and Mary.
'Click.'
Henri looked at the picture in his camera. John, his grandson, with his pregnant wife, Julie, walking through the park towards his wheelchair, hand in hand, smiling and happy.
There, in the photographs, two young couples captured in their moments of time.