Waiting for the Flyers - Part 10 Memories

The meeting with David ended with an agreement for him to come to my home as soon as I could leave Sophie’s care to read through the diary I’d kept since I arrived in 2050. On reflection I worried the promise I made him was a rash one. I’d never shown much of it to any of my family, preferring them to be familiar with the so called “official” documentation which was stored digitally and, for the moment, difficult to access.

The diaries actually covered thoughts and experiences as far back as 2044. When I was twelve I started it as a handwriting exercise. An idea from Marge. Once I started it became habit. Over the six years of being shifted around in my teens it turned into an obsession. Forever stashing bits of paper and pens to make notes, I kept them hidden in an old box file I found in Jonny’s office. Marge knew about it, but never asked to see what I’d written. She said it was good to write down private thoughts although she often cautioned me not to mention it to Lila-Grace. It was a kind of secret between Marge, Jonny and me. Realising I hadn’t looked at those early scraps for over thirty years, I asked Sophie if Rachael could take me to my house to retrieve them. Suddenly they seemed precious.

Sophie and Rachael looking bemused waited on the couch while I shuffled notebooks about in a wooden trunk until I found my prize – the battered box file. They shared furtive glances and grins when I told them it was secret stuff from childhood. On the way back to the big house Sophie confirmed I was fit enough to go home permanently in a couple of weeks, but warned me to continue my “rest-up” adding something like, you’ll need your strength to deal with what’s going on, but refused to go into detail. ‘Just rest, Ma,’ was her answer to my obvious questions. Over the next fortnight I spent most of my “rest-up” reading through the contents of the file and the notebook diaries in the trunk which Rachael arranged to be brought to me.

Opening my box-file full with mixed colours of paper scraps immediately brought memories of sitting on a bed at night in a hotel, or safe house somewhere - nowhere - scribbling things down on bits of purloined paper, freebee pads and backs of menus with filched pens and pencils.

Spreading a handful of the contents at a time on a table facing my chair, I set about arranging pieces of paper and card into chronological order. Mainly the upper bits were the most recent so I could work my way down the heap, but of course since the size of the scraps varied so much smaller ones shuffled themselves down breaking the order. As I worked a pattern emerged. Pieces of paper I’d collected at a particular time tended to be used until they ran out then bits from another stash were used. This was very useful for finding the time line. Finally I came across a dozen pieces of lined lilac coloured sheets from a writing pad covered in my childish script – the oldest dated: Friday May 27^th 2044.

Taking the lilac paper, now brown at the edge, I set everything aside and read it over and over. Emotions zig-zagged from delight to grief – giggles to tears.

******

It’s my 12^th birthday in 5 days. Marge says I should write stuff down so I’ll remember when I get old. I don’t wanna but I spose I have to. Marge never makes me do stuff but somehow when she sez something I just feel I must. I donno why. She said it will help with my writing and speling. Funnything is she don’t want to read it. She sez its privit but I won’t know if I write the words right. I told her but she sez I’ll figure it out and it will cume right if I keep doing it. So here goes. Marge told me to write the day the month and year which I did.

Were in a big house with towers on the corners and funny pointed roofs in some place called scoltland. Its been real cold and there wasa lot of snow when we got here. We came on a helicopter and it was really scary. We were so low all the time I thought we would hit the ground We even went between some trees. I screamed. Aunty Lila came too, she cuddled me to make me feel safe. I was allowed outside during the day with Marge and a couple of blokes with guns after we arrived. One of them played snowballs with me an Marge. I got him a good one right in his face. He pretended to fall down dead. It was funny I weed myself laughing.

The other day Marge said one of the men saw a drone go behind a mountain and soon we have to move. Auntie Lilas coming on my birthday. I hope we don’t have to move thow. Its very pretty and there is a river I go with Marge and we can see big fish called sammon.

******

I remembered everything like it was a week ago. The snow, the stands of conifer spreading for miles and the shimmering river. On the bottom right hand corner I’d drawn a childish depiction of a kangaroo. Every entry in the diary ended with a kangaroo which grew better as time went on. I found myself wondering when I stopped drawing pictures of kangaroos. 

My effort of a twelve-year old's drawing of a kangaroo. Aplogies to any budding Picassos out there ;)