>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XkclIDu9K5c - Remember Me As A Time Of DayI'm looking at a green fabric-covered address book, on the office chair in front of me.
This relic has always lived in the house. Longer than me. I remember it; a strange thing perhaps, to recall, when so much else has been lost in the haze of passing time. I remember the smell. A false plant, perhaps, or was it real? It was spidery, a spider plant, and its pale green tendrils were veined with white.
They sat near the telephone, the adress book and plant, as companions on the waxy sill, seeing before them the same conifer and willow I see today, behind them a different lonely image, in tones of grey and brown. The sill is now smooth, as far as I recall, and the phone went years ago.
The numbers remain, in this clothy book, the front side slightly faded from facing the sun. The words written by hands now still, and messages which no longer relate.
Most emotive of all, the message in block capitals which reads "If anything happens to me, call..." and haunts my mind's eye. Was it fear, or as I sometimes wonder, a ready and knowing acceptance?
Fear is the uncompromising conquerer in my mind, at least.
This house knows me better than I know myself.
Sq.
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