3 Chimes To Memories.

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Its the hardest decision to make, whether to hang on to treasured memories or let some of those memories fade through time. It is a task that we all will face during our life time. (short story).

I remember just sitting here, this exact spot where the armchair still is, it still has a very worn leather musky feel just sitting down in it, a very antiquated treasure that was bequeathed to me by my late father, whom sadly passed away many years ago.
So i sit in the armchair just blindly staring around the room in the house where my Mother and Father lived for over 45 years, time disappears just like the embers of an open fire (i have always  thought that), were all mortal beings and where there is a beginning there is undoubtedly an end.
Life and death are the rules of life, no one anywhere can avoid the inevitability of the end, that's what my Father used to say to me sometimes.
His exact words were (listen son, where ever you go or where ever you are, the grim reaper is riding his horse, looking for his next client) and (try and be as positive as you can son because when you reach my age, you will realize that you can't turn the clock back) so what ever you do, make it count!
They were of high moral values and both my Mother and Father lived there lives with these words deeply embedded in to there day to day lives, of course, my Father swore but it was rare to hear a curse word come from his mouth but (when you hit your thumb whilst using a hammer) its hard not to hold in a curse word (or two)!
My Mother worked as a secretary who specialized in writing notes in shorthand, apparently she was a wizard on the ribbon typewriter (long before computers) and her words per minute were legendary, my Father used to say that she was better at using the typewriter than using the cooker!! 
(He said that quietly so my Mother never heard it)!
My Father was an insurance salesman for 30 years or more, he had a cherished Ford Anglia (in Blue with a white roof) and he used to clean and polish it every Saturday (without fail).
And last (but no means least) they had a toy poodle called Prince, a lively little dog as i recall, always yapping at the slightest noise and loved nothing better than sleeping on top of my Fathers slippers, of course my father liked this because Prince kept his slippers warm for when he needed to wear them.

Suddenly, my emotional recollection of my Mother and Father was disturbed by the loud chime of the grandfather clock in the corner of the lounge, three chimes i heard so it must be 3 pm and all i had done for the last 2 hours was to try and rekindle a glimpse into over 45 years of heritage.
Of course, its a very emotional roller coaster trying to decide what memories and photos i should keep and i would love nothing more than to just freeze time and let my memories never fade away.
But (as the older generation know to well) memories tend to fade over time and recalling them is or does get harder, even my memory isn't what it used to be but that's the rules of life and no one can runaway from the realities of old age.

I look out the lounge window and notice the blackness of the sky so i decide to stay a while (a few nights) in my parents lovely old memory ridden home, i still can't find the emotional energy to actually move anything inside.
It feels as though my Mother and Father are still within these rooms, i can't see them, i can't hear them but i just know that there both near, keeping a watchful eye on their son, a son that they devoted all there lives bringing up and making me a highly respectable human being.

I will never be able to hug my Mother and Father again and thank them for making my life a happy and humble one but if there spirits are surrounding this home, i am sure they will be smiling.

(i hope you enjoyed reading this short story, i enjoyed writing it)

Submitted: November 27, 2017

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