Writing for Fun
The White Feather - Gwenda Syratt
October 2014
Yesterday Rosemary had enjoyed a cup of coffee with her friend Elizabeth and the subject of lone white feathers came up.
Elizabeth had read an article in the newspaper by Gloria Hunniford about lone white feathers. Her late daughter Caron Keating believed they were an angel's calling card and Gloria Hunniford believes Caron frequently sends her messages.
Rosemary disputed this. 'Obviously a malting seagull has flown overhead.'
But Elizabeth stuck to her guns and said there were many occasions when Gloria's daughter came to her when she was most needed.
Rosemary was not convinced.
'I have heard,' said Elizabeth, 'that when it is your time to pass away, a loved one comes to your side and helps you on the journey.'
'Elizabeth!' said Rosemary with a hint of impatience in her voice. 'You don't pass on, pass over, pass away or go anywhere, you just die. We are like flowers, the seed is sown, we grow, we bloom then the decline begins and we die.'
Elizabeth persisted. 'My niece went to her grandmother's house three days after her Nan had died and as she opened the front door she saw her grandmother standing at the top of the stairs.'
'Well of course,' said Rosemary dryly, 'your niece had her grandmother on her mind, it is not surprising she imagined her standing at the top of the stairs.'
'My niece is not a drama queen, in fact she has her feet firmly on the ground; she is in the police force and the family believe she did see Nan. Nan and granddad bought the house and moved in as a bride and groom in the 1920's. All their life together was woven into the bricks and mortar. The 1930's depression, world war ll, three children were born in the front room, two children married from the house. The family believe that as her death was so sudden – a heart attack – Nan wasn't ready to leave the house. The funeral was held there and the family believe she stayed in the house until that day.'
Rosemary had the good sense not to argue that point any further.
'And,' Elizabeth continued, 'I did hear of two men who were life long friends and when one died the other man wasn't well enough to travel 60 miles to the funeral so he sat at home and thought of his very dear friend on that sad day. At 1pm just as the funeral party left the house Len heard a crashing sound and looked up at the mantle piece and a framed photograph of the two great friends had fallen onto the floor.'
'A coincidence,' said Rosemary.
At that the subject was changed.
That was yesterday.
Today Rosemary was in her kitchen baking Irish Soda Bread. She enjoyed cooking and was singing along to the radio. She was going to give a loaf to Mrs Jenkins next door, the traditional way to give the gift is to wrap it in brown paper and tie with raffia or string. Rosemary would wrap it in greaseproof paper and tie with ribbon. Mrs Jenkins will cut the loaf in slices separate with greaseproof paper and just use a few slices as she needs them.
As she worked in the kitchen she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye. There was a mirror in the hall that can be seen from the kitchen. For one second she thought she saw her mother, she looked about 50 years of age when in fact she was eighty when she had died.
Rosemary smiled, 'It must be that conversation with Elizabeth yesterday. She does say some silly things sometimes.' But it did stimulate her thoughts about her parents and childhood family life.
At the end of the day Rosemary reflected on her day, she always enjoyed baking and she was glad she had given some time to Mrs. Jenkins who was quite lonely and looked forward to receiving the bread.
Rosemary thought of tomorrow when she had a busy day planned. She placed her clothes ready to wear on the bedroom chair, looked at the list and contentedly got into a nice warm bed. What a great book she was reading, she didn't want it to end. Rosemary always felt something was missing when she had finished a story that involved her.
But Rosemary wouldn't wear the clothes or finish her book because tomorrow, Rosemary would be dead.
