Wednesday 16 May 2012

'Kite' by Peter Domican

We will return to our favourite place and fly the kite we bought last year and run along the deserted beach once more, looking up into a deep blue sky. We shall hold onto the strings for dear life and our laughter will be carried away by the wind.  We will walk hand in hand past brightly coloured beach huts, closed and shuttered to keep out the fierce winter storms and boats pulled out of the water, standing on rusting trailers awaiting warmer weather and new paint.  Then, when we are weary and can walk no more, we’ll sit in the café on the promenade at our usual table. 
We shall touch each other’s rosy cheeks until we can feel the warmth come back into our hands and faces then eat thick crumpets dripping with butter, drink hot chocolate from thick white mugs and make plans for the future. We’ll think of names for our children and watch the late afternoon sun set across the bay before making our way back to the city. On our journey home, we will sit side by side with your head resting on my shoulder. I will tell you that, when we retire, we shall go and live there. We will spend our remaining days together hand in hand breathing in that fresh sea air and, when our children visit, we will take our grandchildren to the beach. We will let them run amongst the beach huts, shout at them as they try to climb aboard the boats and teach them how to fly a kite. And as I talk about our future, you will smile and kiss me on the cheek then snuggle up to me and fall asleep on my shoulder as you always do.
Our place is out there in the winter sunshine, not in here surrounded by nurses and machines. Our best days are ahead of us still.We will fly our kite again my love, I promise you. Just hold on now for dear life.

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