Dreams

  • Childhood,  Dreams,  Family,  Friendship

    Just a Toy

    Fourteen foster homes in fourteen years. Every year, a new home. There was always something. Not the right fit, just a temporary thing, they had to relocate immediately, too much of a strain on the family, behavioural issues, it’s just not working out. No room for error, no room for failure. One big mistake, and I was gone. And at fourteen years old, it was not hard to make one big mistake. I was expelled on the second day of my new school with my thirteenth foster family. On the third, I was gone. By that point, I couldn’t imagine ever becoming a piece in that well-known puzzle we know…

  • Dreams,  Family,  Romance

    My Mary

    Clad in sooty black leather, my Mary roared about the seaside village from the unripe age of sixteen. When she rode, her vanilla hair whipped out of her helmet, which she only wore because her father demanded it, her slick smile grew ten inches, and that jacket she wore burnt under the relentless sun like a lump of hot coal. She was a lioness. And the village folk didn’t take kindly to it. They harrumphed and tutted. My Mary heard the whisperings, but it didn’t bother her a jot.  And then she met me. An awkward, gangly fellow who resembled more of a dizzy flamingo than a strapping lion. But…

  • Dreams,  Family

    Dream a New Dream

    Someone once said, you are never too old to dream a new dream, and I believe them, but just not for me. Not now, anyway. It’s not like I’m eighty or anything. But it’s not age that’s the problem. And if I said I had a wonderful husband and four wonderful children and they were the problem, I think I’d sound pretty ungrateful. I’m not. But I can’t dream a new dream when I’m responsible for fanning the flame for four little dreamers and one dreamer who stole my heart fifteen years ago. Even if my heart has wrinkled a bit. Standing here in the pouring rain with sopping feet…

  • Dreams

    The Postman

    For some people, a job is just a job. Nine til five. Downing a coffee, organising, emailing, phoning, delegating, sorting, wolfing down lunch, some more emailing, downing a coffee, consulting with colleagues, discussing, downing a coffee, meeting deadlines, catching up with the boss, more emailing. And on it goes, day after day. I used to think of my job as just a job. Until one day, I delivered a special parcel to a young woman who had recently lost her husband. She ripped it open like it held the answer to everything she’d been questioning. I don’t know why a silver medal on a royal blue ribbon overwhelmed her like…

  • Dreams,  Family

    Cities Apart

    My granddaughter, Gemma, turned twenty-three last week. She’s the new art director at an advertising firm. I think that’s right. She was twenty-one when she graduated with a First. A First. I only just scraped my English O-Level. Her parents would have been so proud of her. Mary, my wife, would have as well. It’s just Gemma and me now. It has been for a while. And then the idea of London came up, and she couldn’t resist moving there. The place that has it all. That’s what she told me. She didn’t want to leave me in Bath on my own. But how could I let her turn down…

  • Dreams,  Friendship

    Unfinished Dreams

    Robert was a great man. He was a man of his word, not a man of empty promises. A role model who I looked up to so often. I never doubted he could achieve his visions, everything that he strived to accomplish. On our Sunday walks down the canal, he would tell me of his ideas for gardens. He would talk and talk and talk. His words were so full of passion that they transformed into a picture ever so quickly. I imagined his landscape designs as he spoke. We never allowed women to come between our friendship. We made sure of that after my ex-wife nearly tore us apart.…