Pretty intriguing, as this very specific situation generates thought of
many related ones. Nice, Bill.
On Apr 15, 2014 2:43 PM, "Bill Wootton" <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Leaving Lynn in the lurch
>
> In the summer of 1964 I stood with Lynn Weavers
> at the pedestrian crossing in front of Giles-Grigg's
>
> pharmacy in East Ivanhoe, ready to cross over
> to Greany's chemist. Our family never used Greany's.
>
> I had arranged to go round to Lynn's after school.
> There she stood, on one foot, then the other, licking
>
> her lips as she waited for the signal to change.
> I say it was summer but when I think of Lynn now,
>
> I recall her winter uniform: dark grey school jumper
> above darker grey pleated skirt, fully pulled-up socks,
>
> black lace-ups, neat fringed auburn hair, unwavering
> eyes, pert, serious lips closing over even front teeth.
>
> On top of the clinker brick garage at Lynn's place
> lay a concrete patio. I liked this region. I must have
>
> been there before with her. But this afternoon, after
> pushing the red button on the red and white striped pole
>
> at the pedestrian crossing, when I saw my yellow bus
> come streaming through the shopping centre, I knew
>
> I could not resist the pull to head home. I ran streaking
> for that bus and caught it. I never looked back.
>
> I told Mum I had changed my mind. I did not tell her
> that I had not told Lynn. I never went to Lynn's again.
>
> Probably, properly, I was never invited. I do seem
> to remember that high patio above her garage,
>
> ringed with a low wrought-iron fence, don't I? A plum
> tree leaning over it? Perhaps I never went there at all.
>
> All I know is that I feared, had I crossed that afternoon,
> that Lynn Weavers would have swallowed up my soul.
>
> bw
> 16.2.14
>
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