Then and Now

The children sat in their customary places. The story corner with its bright cushions its intricately woven rug and as always that feeling of expectation. They loved this part of the day, as did I. A time of quiet and a time of sharing. This was a safe place, a place where secrets could be shared, where truths were told and where wishes and hopes were paramount. The children guided what would happen here. It might be a story chosen by one of them, usually one that had vividly coloured pictures, with an accompanying vivid tale. It could be an adventure they had to share, about the new baby, or dad getting drunk and falling over. A visit to the food bank became an often told tale. But more and more they liked to hear my stories. ‘Please miss tell us about then.’ This wasn’t anything to do with my skills as a story teller but with their thoughts of the past and of a time which they thought was so much better than ‘now’. These sessions always began with questions. ‘What colour was the sky?’ ‘Were there fish in the sea?’ ‘Could you breath easily?’ I had many picture of ‘then’. Photographs taken by myself and my family, these amongst my prize possessions. ‘I remember when I was your age,’ I began, ‘We went to the seaside. The first time I had ever seen it. It was immense, and it seemed to touch the sky. The perfectly blue sky with not a cloud in sight. There were rock pools full of fish and crabs and seaweed. One crab bit my finger and I screamed.’ They laughed at that, ‘Did that crab look just like the ones we’ve seen in pictures. In real life. I mean?’ Often their questions were accompanied with ‘in real life I mean.’ ‘Did you paddle, did you swim, did fish tickle your toes?’ And the big question ‘Did the sun shine?’ This was the saddest of their questions. They would never see the sun, the moon or the stars. Or that beautiful blue of the sky of my childhood. All they would see was thick, murky clouds which were ever present. Clouds contaminated with pollutants giving them a sickly disturbing colour. Attempts had been made to disperse them but it had been too little and too late. Even sadder, this was all the children knew. I could remember a blue and green earth with bird song, butterflies, bees and the beautiful sea full of life. They would never experience any of these things, even if the earth survives. ‘Show us your photos of then, of the time before.’ Their faces shining with expectation, the now forgotten for the moment. I always had a selection with me, they passed them round marvelling at the brightness of colours, the trees stretching up to the blue, blue sky and at the vastness of the ocean. ‘What happened to all the colour miss?’ A horn sounded signalling that pollution had become extreme and that everyone must return to their homes. The children knew the drill. They reached for their masks and put on their protective coveralls, lined up and made their way down the tunnel. That last question ringing in my head. ‘What happened to all the colour?’ If I could have given an honest answer it would have been ‘It is us who stole all the colour in the world. Mankind is to blame.’