Good History

It came today in a flash that from even the earliest day I had started with the remembrance endeavour. School Christmas play the curtains closed behind me and I just knelt on one knee grinning at the baying silly crowd, wild knowing the next day was holidays. I have met some eternal beauties, said the wrong words at the right time and collected in my brain a long list of death flashbacks at the last breath.
Curiously full of colour loud and quiet parts a short short movie on a desktop. Created enough to stop now but why bother, it could be all done again and with the history of learning, the good history it could be tackled with fervour, a quiet energy that speaks a volume of wisdom, dressed well and classic, trust in the decision, he can be trusted, he knows more because he was there before.

I imagine as a ghost I could still feel the breeze, it would bend through me, the shape of my hat and head making it’s way down the coast and faze out to the sea. I imagine I could see people still, blink slowly knowing, content, smart enough, I could put thoughts in their heads and see that they felt it, see the phone and then it’s ringing tone.

They would bear it, the past memory of all I had tried to do, good and bad, funny grumpy. I won in the end as the stories would go on, remember he said that, done this, a good history in place to remind them all of whatever bits I added and chipped away in this lovely life, the one that flew on away. Some will forget though.

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