It’s a week before Christmas

By Jane Goodhew

It is a week before Christmas and there is so much to do but first, I shall sit by the tree and remember. Your first steps, your sweet smile, the laughter in your eyes and the sparkle that shone around you where ever you went.  Life was magical with you in it, and I wanted so much for you to love me as I loved you and not just because I was your mother. I had waited so long to have a child of my own but finding the perfect man was not that simple or easy to do.                                                         

  I eventually did when I wasn’t even looking, he walked into the office and as he strode towards me my heart missed a beat, and I felt as if I would faint.  It sounds far fetched and straight out of Mills & Boon but that was how it was. From that day forth he was mine and I was his. We were married within a year and by the end of the next, Sebastian our son you were born. You was perfect as perfect could be in every way and rarely cried, so life was bliss. We had moved into a cottage in the village and the garden seemed to stretch for miles with a small lake towards the bottom. Trees grew along the side, so we were secluded and protected from the rest of the world. It was idyllic especially for the first few years, I had remained at home to be a mother and wife and keep house. I never thought it would be enough to satisfy me, but it was, as I learnt to cook and sew and make jams and preserves for the autumn. I joined the mother and baby club and took you swimming and for walks in the park. We had it all but that was all about to change.

  Your father started staying out later and later until he stopped coming home at all. Whilst we were out, he would return and take his belongings and then he left a note saying we were over. He was sorry but he realised that marital bliss was not for him, and he would leave us the house and enough income to last until you finished full time education and then a small amount to keep me going until I found appropriate work. I sat on the sofa totally stunned by what I read after all we had only been married a few years and we had always seemed so happy together. We didn’t row, we were loving and romantic and had time to ourselves, so it was not all divided between work and being a parent.  What had happened to make him just walk away? Perhaps I will never know and a part of me didn’t want to find out, so I didn’t, I just accepted it and got on with life, just you and me. 

The years past quickly and you enjoyed school and made many friends who often came over to play. We built a tree house, and you would spend many happy hours in the evening playing with your friends and imagining far away places that you would one day visit. I tried to show you as much of the world as I could, and we would holiday in a different country every summer and Christmas. I never liked the idea of Christmas at home just you and me and the tree. I know you sometimes would have wanted a more traditional time with family and friends and presents around the 'over decorated' tree, with a plate left out for Santa. I just couldn’t do it; it was too painful as your father, and I would be like children with presents and surprises for one another.  We laughed and sang and played charades and Scrabble and occasionally invited the neighbours in for a drink or two.

  One year we even threw a New Years Eve party and had lights all through the garden, it was like a winter wonderland, and I loved all he did to make our life perfect. If only I had known what the following year would bring but I didn’t as I had worn rose coloured glasses and lived in a dream, a fantasy.   I had thought of selling our home once he had made it perfectly clear that he would never be returning but I didn’t know where I   would go, and you were happy here.

  Your Grandparents would visit once a year and bring family photos and videos so we could see what your father was like as a child. The years blended one into another and your teenage years were filled with nights out and parties. I hoped you would work harder at school as you seemed to be an academic rather than a craftsman. Although you did like painting and music so had piano lessons, but they soon went the way of everything else and became part of your past. You did enjoy sport, and weekends were filled with rugby and football and in the summer cricket or tennis. Then the girls started to call, and you would drive off with the roof down and the wind in your hair and I wouldn’t see you until late Sunday night.

                                                                  

  I guess that just about covers your life in a nutshell.   I look around the room at the photos of you over the years and the smile on your face the day you graduated and wanted to get all those moments back. There were no more moments, no more memories, no photos just letters of condolence and flowers and mumbling messages left on the answer phone. How sorry they were for my loss. How tragic that his life had been cut short just as his future was opening up for him.

 

All I have now are my memories of life as it once was before that fateful day when you leapt into your car and without a care in the world drove off never to return until the hearse bought you home in a box.                                         

 

That was a lifetime ago and now there is just me and this rambling old house filled with memories of you my son and the tears stream down my face when I realise you will never walk through the door again.  You have no tomorrow, you only had your yesterday and I hope they were happy, that you were and that one day I will see your smiling face and your sparkling eyes and hear your laughter fill the air once more.  Til then I shall just sit here and remember a Christmas when life was good and we had fun.  

 

                  Copyright Jane Goodhew                                                                                                        .                                                   

                                      

                                                                                                                                                             

 

 

 Are we there yet?

By Jane Goodhew

“Are we there yet, are we there yet?” they repeated the words over and over until I thought if I heard them one more time, I would open the car door and shove the pair of them out!  What was I thinking of, not about shoving them out the door but in taking them to a pantomime.  A pantomime used to be exactly that a mime meaning actions speak louder than words but how they have changed and now they are loud, brash and not my idea of comedy or fun in any shape or form.  I tried to control my temper, to refrain from taking the next left and going back home after all it was Christmas.  The season to be loving and giving and suffering, after all isn’t childbirth suffering and Mary had given birth to Jesus, which was why we celebrate, isn’t it?  Although I think the meaning has been lost in translation over the last century and now it appears to be a time for greed and overindulgence and pantomime.  I could almost hear myself say “BAH Humbug” as I was beginning to sound like Scrooge.

“Which one are we seeing,” they ask in unison, and I have to think hard for which one we are seeing.  “Cinderella” I say and then the song Cinderella rock a fella keeps on repeating itself in my head and how I long for the Sound of Silence.  I keep driving telling myself to still be calm, and at peace, it will soon be over, and they will be back at school and normality will prevail.  For they are not even my children but my sisters, away at the moment taking a restful holiday in the sun with her workaholic husband who could only take this period off from his busy schedule.  How convenient!

I remind myself to be more charitable and less hostile towards them after all they are delightful, polite, well mannered, no problem at all.  Who was I kidding they were little monsters, they awoke early,  and even when sent to bed they continued chattering away until late and if I went upstairs to ask them to be quiet they just looked at me as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths and as soon as my back was turned begin again.

“Aunty, Aunty” they scream in delight, as they see the sign for the theatre.  We are almost there but, first we stop off to buy some sweets at the corner shop; as they are always extortionate in the foyer.  I am Scrooge!  They stock up on all that would be banned the rest of the year, and they look so angelic when they smile sweetly and say, “Thank you Aunty, we do love you and enjoy staying with you.”  How they manage to say it with such a straight face I don’t know perhaps they are psychopaths in the making.

Back in the car, they resume their game of Eye Spy and that was when I spied another sign, the billboard for Cinderella and a poster straight across it with the words CANCELLED DUE TO SICKNESS.                                                                                                                                         

                                                                                                        

My prayers had been answered as I turned the car around and headed back home with two very subdued and forlorn children who would now have to finish decorating the tree instead and go to bed early whilst they waited for Santa to call.  

 

Copyright Jane Goodhew

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

 Box 666

By Jane Goodhew

The trees were rapidly changing colour, the verdant greens of spring and summer had been turned into burnished gold and lost their leaves completely autumn had come with a rush.  The warm winds that had crossed the Atlantic had fooled people into thinking it was still summer but they only had to look out of their windows to see winter was fast approaching and the next strong winds would remove the remaining leaves and all colour would be gone.  Winter can be such a gloomy time; nature might be busy beneath the ground but up above all appears worn and dreary.  In the early hours of the morning the bare trees look like a silhouette against the sky, filigree lace sketched in charcoal.  The birds still fly overhead and then swoop if they see something move in the fields but there is little around at this time of year and most have found somewhere warm and safe to live out the winter.

 

She had hoped to have gone away, overseas, anywhere it did not matter just as long as she did not spend another winter of doom and gloom here looking at him across the table and wishing upon wish that she had the courage to leave him but he had been clever and tied the business up so she could not easily sell her share.  No money, no travel, no escape. Then she had an idea, how about if she took a job out of the Lady, someone was always advertising for a companion for an elderly aunt of lonely widower.  He would wonder what she was up to if she went to the shops at this time of day so she looked it up on her computer.  Classified adds and there it was just what she was looking for.

 

Elderly lady requires travel companion for 3 months.  All expenses paid.  Up to date passport required and cheerful personality.  Box666

Well she was not too keen on the box number as it had a ring of the devil about it but the rest was just the answer to her problems so she composed a well thought out but witty reply and pressed send. 

 

A few days later came the response she had hoped for but had not dared to dream of.  You sound just the person I am looking for so meet me at Southampton Departures at 10am Saturday 22^nd November.  The tickets are booked and you will have your own adjoining cabin.  Send me your dress and shoe size and I will arrange for your clothes to be there so no need to pack, just bring yourself and your passport.

 

This all sounded too good to be true but she had to get away from her life here before she did something she would live to regret.  She had got to the stage where she could not bear to be in the same room as him, even eating was, what, exactly what, there are no words that can adequately describe how she resented every little move he made, every scratch of the plate, every time he lifted his fork to his mouth she cringed just waiting for the noise of his chomping.  No, whatever was ahead of her had got to be better than this; she would tell no-one not even her best friend.  She would send a letter after the ship had sailed.

 

The days seemed to drag, she could barely contain the excitement that was welling up inside of her and she could not believe that this was really happening nothing like this ever happened to someone like her.  She almost had to pinch herself to see if she were awake and not dreaming but no, she was awake and she re-read the new email to make sure there was no mistaking what she had read. It still said for her to get herself ready as the day of departure was this weekend and a car would pick her up at 7am outside St Marys Church Hall.  A car was coming to get her, clothes were being provided and oh how she had believed in fairies at the bottom of the garden, Santa at Christmas, if there was something to believe in then she would.  She longed to talk to her friend about it but she thought if she did she would somehow jinx it, break the spell after all it did appear that magic had played a part in this, she had made a wish and hey presto it was coming true.

 

The day of departure had finally arrive, her husband had gone out early that morning and he would not be back until late by which time she would be miles out to sea and for the first time in decades he would have to cook his own tea!  Her cooking was about all he would miss about her as they no longer had anything pleasant to say to one another.  She wondered how people could end up like this but many do.  Thankfully she had an escape route and she was going to take it.  The sky was brilliant blue but the air was crisp with low temperatures that were only to be expected at this time of year.  She pulled her hat down low over her ears and her scarf up until the ends joined, and she felt snug as a bug in a rug.  Her passport was in her handbag and a packet of paper tissues and wipes and a tooth brush and that was it, she turned and shut the front door and not once did she look back as she walked out of the life she had known and grown to detest. With a determined step she went forth to an unknown adventure that was about to begin.

 

The car was already waiting for her as she got to the church hall, the driver was smartly dressed, suit, tie, and yes he even had a cap, she thought she was about to faint, this was all too much for her to comprehend.  Life was looking good, what was she thinking, good, it was brilliant and she was intent on making the most of every minute.  She climbed into the back as he placed a blanket over her legs even though the car was warm, he said it was going to be a few hours before they got there and she may as well take a nap so that she would be fresh for the voyage.  This suited her as she was not up to making small talk and had had very little sleep for some time. She was too excited to thinking about what lay ahead of her and surprisingly enough she felt guilty.  She had not expected that, after all their relationship had not been loving for many years. Although he knew she was not happy remaining in the wilderness for the rest of her life he made no plans to move.  His life continued and she knew it would without her there, he would barely notice her missing apart from when it came to the evening and there was no meal on the table but he would survive and soon find someone to replace her, if it were only to employ a housekeeper.

 

She saw the sign for Departures or was it Embarkation after all it was a cruise ship and not a plane that she was about to spend the next three months on.  She suddenly began to feel a bit nervous and why not for she had no idea who she was meeting, where she was going, would it be 3 months at sea or would some of the time be spent on land and if so which country?  Too late now she had gone too far to change her mind or to let the old lady down, she just hoped it would all turn out okay and they would get along with each other.  The car had stopped and the driver opened the door and smiled as he could see the mixture of fear and excitement in her eyes and he wished she could tell her that it was going to be fine, that she had nothing to worry about, life was about to become everything she would ever have dreamed and more.

 

She stepped through the door and someone with a board with her name on it was standing just inside so she walked over to him and he took her into another area which was obviously for those who were travelling deluxe class.  There on a sofa which was far to large for her was a petite lady, elegantly dressed in a lilac silk trouser suit and a smile that lit up the room.  She introduced herself and at once she was able to relax as she just knew that everything would be fine, that she could get on with Eleanor and wherever they ended up would be more than acceptable for her.  They chatted as if they had known each other their whole lifes, they could so easily have been sisters or perhaps because of their age difference Aunt and niece.  It did not matter they were going to be friends of this she was sure.  After all the procedures had been followed, passport checks and tickets being given with cards that had your photo included on them, this would open your cabin and also allow you to have as much food and drink as you wished to indulge in throughout the voyage as well as other extras too many to mention.  It was not a large ship of which she was glad as she did not like to think of some of the cruise ships that sailed the seas these days. They were as big as a small town if not bigger as some could hold over 5,000 passengers, far more people than lived in her village and even those for miles around.  This could take only 500 and that was more than enough for her especially as this was her first cruise and what a first it would be.

 

They entered on level 3 but they were shown to a lift and taken to Deck 5 which was often referred to as the pay and sway as the higher you went the more it would move if the sea was rough or the winds strong.  She did not care, she did not get travel sick and the higher she was the further she would be able to see in the distance as they crossed the Atlantic and made their way up the might Amazon and then onto the Caribbean.  Finally she knew where they were going and she could not believe it, the Amazon then Barbados, Grenada, and St Lucia the names went on until she could not take in more names.  Her cabin was 6b and Eleanors 6a, there was only one other and that was 6c.  It seemed quite spooky that the Box number was 666 and not the cabin numbers read 666 if you missed out a, b and c.  She wondered if the Captain would be called De’vile.  She laughed out loud as she thought of someone having that name and then she saw the photo on the wall and it was of the Captain and his crew and his name was none other than D’Eville.   This was just too coincidental for words and she began to feel very uneasy about the whole situation she found herself in.  She gave herself a long and hard talking to, when she realised how ridiculous her thinking was becoming. The Devil? Was she going to find that the ship was call Hell?  No, it was in fact called D’Angelo.  That was just as bad; since now she was on an Angel with the Devil at the Helm…

 

Copyright Jane Goodhew

                                     

                                    

Drink on me

Drink on me

By Jane Goodhew

Drink on me you said.

So, I went to the bar and ordered the wine.

The waiter brought it over.

As he proceeded to pour, I noticed you were no more.

Sat at the table but perched at the bar.

Your hand under your chin as you stared into her eyes.

 Laughed at her jokes and paid for her drink.

So, remembering what you had said about.

Drink on me

I, glass of red wine in my hand,

Walked with my head held high,

Then I raised the glass and watched your face turn pale

As I said aloud “You said have a drink on me”

And that is what you have

The wine rang down and stained  his shirt

But so what, he should not have been such a flirt!

 

Copyright Jane Goodhew

 When Life takes you to a Difficult place

By Jane Goodhew

 

 

When life takes you to a difficult place

Which one day it will                                                 l

Where choices seem too hard to make

Sit awhile and think so you can choose with care

Give yourself some space                                                                     

                                                                  

Do not rush where angels fear to tread

Or remain stagnant for fear or dread

Of things that may never happen

For they may drive you to tears

Your imaginary fears

 

Sometimes we need to strike whilst the iron is hot    

For a stitch in time saves nine they say

 But at others

Enter the world of make believe

To a fictional land                   

                                                                                    

To sit or lie upon the sand                                                                

And hear the waves splash upon the shore

Or be high up a hill where life seems so peaceful and still

 

Where you just watch the clouds go by

and see so many things fly high into the sky

 

Depending on the time of day

You can see

Not just changing colours but imaginary people or animals   

                              

that were once perceived as gods               

they are still there in the clouds                                

so just let your fantasies run wild

                                                                                                                                

At night, look for the moon so bright

 it will lead the way

To yet another place           

In the galaxy beyond the stars

Take your time so that you may see

Which choice to make which road to take    

 

   Copyright Jane Goodhew                                                                                           

 Children’s Delight

Jane Goodhew

The car drove up the drive and two

little girls jumped out.                          

Their mass of red curls                                                      

bobbing up and down like a cork at sea

as they excitedly ran towards me.

                                                  

Can we see them, can we see them

Are they still here?

The fairies at the bottom of your garden

That fly through the air with colourful wings

The elves and the pixies too that swing up into the trees

And hit you with the acorns as they do like to tease.

                                    

I look at them and smile and say

They might even sit next to you one day

When you are still and don’t make much sound

 

We’ll be silent, we’ll sit still.  Won’t we they said

And they each nodded their heads

And looked with hope in their eyes

 

They are still here

If you look you’ll find

And if you listen

You may hear them                                              

Laughing and giggling

As they have such fun

Flying around in the noon day sun

Or looking for shelter when it rains

Beneath a leaf or blade of grass

The drops glisten like diamonds

On their wings

As they suddenly fly past

so fast                                           

Come along, we won’t just sit

Collect some rose petals as you go

Then we can make them beautiful dresses

And some to weave through their golden tresses

For when they go to the ball

At their friend the Toad who lives at the Hall

 

Can you see them now I say

And their look would brighten the dullest day

And how their eyes sparkle and gleam

As they realise it isn’t a dream.

For there in a circle they see them all dance

And the girls just stare as if in a trance.

 

Copyright Jane Goodhew

 The Night She Disappeared

By Jane Goodhew

It seems unlikely that she would have just up and left without a word of goodbye? Lucy was a polite, sensible young woman who hated to see people upset, so this was out of character. I just had this feeling that something untoward had happened to her. She had been incredibly quiet of late as if she had to think things through and wanted to do it for herself. Whatever the something was we have yet to find out, but we will and bring her home, to Lace Wood Hall.

The family gathered in the drawing room and each one in turn recounted the last time they had seen her, what she wore, what she said, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed. I took it upon myself to make notes and put them into some sort of chronological order. Anything to make myself feel less useless than I did.

Outside the sun shone in a bright blue cloudless sky and the birds sang to one another, it seemed the perfect day but inside was a different scenario, it was doom and gloom. Each one had the expression of someone who had lost a diamond and found broken glass. After about an hour we recapped and it would appear she had been wearing her dark blue dress with the dainty golden heart pattern, a hat, ballet style shoes and had her handbag with her. Her blonde, shoulder length hair was loose, and she had a strange smile on her face as if she had a secret that made her happy but would keep to herself.

 

That was 3 years ago and so far, nothing, not a word from her and no-one seemed to have seen her, it was as if she had disappeared without a trace. The police had been informed and photos put up in the places she used to go. Friends had rallied round and been out looking but drawn a blank. No money had been withdrawn from her account since the day she walked out the door, her mobile charger was still next to her bed so her phone would eventually run out. Whatever had happened was not planned and everyone was fearing the worse. I thought of all the other families who had been in this position and wondered how they coped without driving themselves mad with the what-if's. Going over and over the last thing that was said to her, what type of frame of mind she was in.

Her computer had nothing out of the ordinary on it, she had not used dating sites or written to strangers, in fact for a young woman she was remarkably 'some would say' boring. To us she was a loving, thoughtful young woman with a tremendous sense of humour and a generous heart who was always there for everyone and anyone.

The papers had stopped mentioning her as there was no evidence of her being missing in suspicious circumstances, no ransom note or call. I often wondered what it would take to make it a suspicious disappearance, as far as I could see, there was nothing normal about it.

Alas, there is nothing more I can say on the night Lucy disappeared or why she chose to leave the house never to return. If anyone out there sees her or hears from her, please contact us. If you see this Lucy remember you are loved by all of us and when you are ready either come home or at least contact one of us. We are just so lost without you and not knowing if you are dead or hopefully alive is unbearable?

According to statistics on the internet a person goes missing every 90 seconds, 170,000 per year, of which 70,000 are children. The most common reasons are:

Diagnosed/undiagnosed mental health issues 8 – 10.

Dementia 4-10

Financial problems 1-10

Escaping violence         Homelessness       Relationship breakdown

Problems at home       Risk of suicide.  

From what we all think we know of you Lucy, none of these are relevant and in your own time you will come home. We will never give up on hope for that is all we have now and we all hope you are happy wherever you are.

 

                       

Copyright Jane Goodhew

 Ghosts

By Jane Goodhew

She had never been on a long weekend break before or rather not on her own, this was the first and she hoped one of many as it was time to venture out into the world and stop behaving like a precious child who could not manage without its nanny. The hotel looked imposing it was a country house not one of those modern buildings with no personality, this looked as if it could tell many exciting stories of love and intrigue even a murder or two. She was becoming fanciful now with her mind working into overtime instead of just chilling as they say these days. She was supposed to go into neutral and just relax and enjoy the surroundings, the leisurely walks down to the lake and then across to the woodland beyond. She could see what looked like a deep blue velvety carpet interspersed with a mixture of tree mainly old as this was ancient woodland and she remembered that in the brochure she had seen a painting of the bluebells growing in their natural habitat long before the house was built. Bluebells like her loved to be somewhere stable and can be dated back to at least the 1600’s just as her ancestors did. She decided to stop dreaming and go to her room and unpack after asking if they could prepare a picnic lunch so that she could go for a wander without having to rush back to eat in the restaurant as she could do that in the evening at her leisure.

 

                                                        

The receptionist was most obliging and after finding out what sort of sandwhich and drink she would like told her it would be ready for her when she came back down again and called for a bellboy to take her case to her room.  The room was on the third floor, it had a large bay window which looked out over the front lawn, in the distance she could see where she intended to take her walk and the path that led down to the woods.  The bedroom was larger than she had imagined and had a writing desk infront of the side window which had a view across to the stables.  She thought that maybe tomorrow she would go for a ride; she had had lessons as a child and decided it must be like riding a bike once learnt not forgotten?  She changed into more comfortable clothing and then went down the large staircase to the reception resisting the urge to slide down the highly polished bannister. 

There must have been a change of shift as it was not the kindly lady who had organised her picnic but a middle aged man who looked as if he had had enough of life and resented being there.  He eventually looked up at her and grumpily asked what she wanted, she explained she had ordered a lunch and had come to collect it so she could go for a walk in the woods without having to rush back.  Why she was telling him all of this she did not know but she wanted to talk and to try and engaged him into a conversation hoping she could extract a smile from his forlorn face.  Ever since she was a child she had disliked seeing people unhappy and therefore felt it her duty to cheer them up if possible as she had been blessed with a sunny disposition and saw life through rose tinted glasses even though it had not been that way in reality.

 

He rang down to the kitchen and in less than a minute a small wicker picnic basket was presented to her.  She thanked them both, the receptionist and the young girl who had bought it up to her who had turned and left without a word to either of them.  She handed over the key and made her way to the entrance and out into the late Spring sun.  The hyacinth scent wafted up the stone steps and it reminded her of  her aunt Maud’s cottage and the long Easter holidays that she had endured there keeping her obnoxious cousin company.  How grateful she was to be free of them all and to be able to come and go as she pleased, to answer to no-one.   She crossed over the small bridge and into the woodland; it was much cooler there in the shade of the trees which were just beginning to get their foliage back. 

She heard a rustle in the distance and saw a dark figure running through the trees, he must have known his way because in an instance he was gone and there was silence once more.  As if to keep her company the birds began to sing to one another and the bee buzzed  around her head as she bent down to smell the bluebells.  After walking for about half an hour, she decided to stop and have her lunch.  Chicken and advocado sandwich, with a variety of cheese and grapes, apples and  small bottle of wine, what more could she ask for, a few chocolates appeared at the bottom of the basket as if in answer.  Yes, she was content and happily ate the contents thinking about how she would spend the rest of the day before going back to dress for dinner.

The warm environment mixed with the wine must have made her sleepy because the next time she opened her eyes it was dark and she wondered how she would find her way back as there were no lights to be seen.  Her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness and she saw in the distance what must have been headlights so she headed in that direction hoping that if she got to the road she could go that way back to the hotel.  Eventually she saw the exit and luckily as she did a car drove past and asked if she wanted a lift as coincidently he was staying at the same hotel as her.  She readily accepted and they talked like long lost friends until they got back and then he suggested that as he was on his own perhaps she care to join him for dinner.  How could she refuse, so saying Aurvoir they got their respective keys and went to their rooms to freshen up and dress in more appropriate attire.  She filled the bath to the top and the bubbles ran over but she didn’t care she was happy and after she had dried herself before slipping into her long white gown, she sprayed herself with her new perfume Ghost by Ghost after all that is what they all were.

 

 

  

Copyright Jane Goodhew                                                           

 

 

 Acrophobia

By Jane Goodhew

Today was important but I was not sure if I could go through with it as ever since I was a small child, I had had an irrational fear of having my feet anywhere other than on the ground. Okay, that was a slight exaggeration as I did not sleep on the floor and I travelled by plane to lands far afield, as far as New Zealand and Raratonga so I had been high, high above the clouds and no harm had befallen me. This was different, I would not be seated in a tin can with a seat belt around me and people to talk to or ignore depending on my mood and theirs.

 

                               

        

 

I had accepted a new position and foolishly had not done my homework first for if I had I would most certainly have said a distinct NO! It was too late now for I had signed on the dotted line and there was no turning back as I had worked all my life to get this job. To get to the top of the ladder figuratively speaking, which was the irony of it all. Once I had found out that the office was on the 72^nd floor and I had panoramic views across the whole of the city as it was mainly glass, I went straight into panic mode.  The room span, I felt sick and could not think about anything but trying to breathe and not just drop dead there and then. I took deep breaths and concentrated on my feet so that I could at least feel the ground beneath them. I tried to remember all that I had been taught over the years of therapy as I had not wanted to take medication and become addicted to a pill when the fear was in my mind therefore under my control. I sometimes wonder about that when I struggle just to survive without everyone noticing what is happening to me. When friends tell me not to be so silly and just get there, get on with it, and enjoy the fantastic views that most people would die for! All the rewards that come with being top dog in such a prestigious firm.  That was exactly what was wrong with me, I felt as if I would die and how would that look in the middle of a board meeting?

Shaking like a leaf on a tree in a storm, like a jellyfish in the shallow water having been thrown by a large wave. My eyes well up with tears as the fear takes grip and no matter how much I try to rationalize it just the thought is enough to put me into a state of panic.

 

I sit down and talk to myself as if I were a simple child, I think of , what do I think, that’s just it I can’t think, all I can do is put my head in my hands and wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole.    I try to imagine I am free, free as a bird soaring high in the sky and I can look down on the world without fear, without having a full-blown panic attack. I am free.

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright Jane Goodhew

 

                                            

 The New Coat 01 

By Jane Goodhew

I know I said I wanted a new coat, my dear

I had wanted it to brighten up our world

Not doom and gloom

For there is enough of that already.

I wanted it to make a statement.          

                             

Eye-catching yet subtle, bold yet soft.

NOT

A milky coffee look.

Like the cover of an old book

Just because I am getting on.

You think our home and I have to be the same.

Dull and dingy

Beige or magnolia!!

SO                                                                                                                                            

I made a decision without consulting you.

I phoned the estate agent.

‘The colour scheme is perfect madam’.

HE SAID                                                                                                                          

To sell!

So, thank you my dear.

For your selective hearing

And thinking I meant a coat of paint.

I need the patience of a saint.

But now I am off to the Spring sale to get that coloured coat

I saw in the window whilst you sipped your coffee and thought of paint.

 And then I am off to pastures new and yes, my love without you.    

 Copyright Jane Goodhew