Memories

Someone remembers

The rocking chair groaned as Daisy leant back, then forth. Over and over. She used to hate the feeling of Harry's scratchy rocking chair, but now she could sit in it for hours, quietly reminicing.

Daisy remembered the first day her and Harry had seen the house - she could just imagine them, two bright, bubbly newly-weds, ready to settle down and be adults. She remembered the feeling of amazement as she walked through the three-bedroomed town-house, the awe of being a 'potential buyer' to the house-owners - then, with a surge of pleasure, Daisy remembered the feeling of the cold pen in her fingers and she signed the papers - the papers stating that the house was now hers - well, hers and Harry's.

Then Daisy stood up, grabbing her walking stick as she did so. It wasn't often Daisy moved - normally she simply sat in Harry's chair, looking out onto the street from the window. But today seemed... different. She knew what she had to do.

Daisy walked into each room - the kitchen, the bedrooms, the bathroom, and then back to the living room. She remembered all the laughs and tears in every room - the baking in the kitchen was a definite plus, Daisy decided - Charlotte burning her arm with boiling water - maybe not.

Her and Harry's bedroom brought tears to Daisy's eyes. She remembered all the tender moments that she and Harry had shared in the room, the love that had blossomed into three beautiful children - "Twins and a single!", Harry used to say.

Charlotte's room - she was the eldest Charlotte was. Daisy surveyed the tattered pink wallpaper, Daisy's pink bed still standing in the room. It was the spare room now, for whenever one of her many grandchildren wanted to stay. And yet the ghost of Charlotte's past came back to whisper memories to Daisy, and Daisy took them, remembering silently.

Henry and Charlie's room - those two were a handful, Daisy realized, chuckling at the thought. She looked at the faded blue paint on the walls, stained with memories - the tomato-throwing, milk-chucking, the food fights that happened night after night. The twins had constantly pink hands from the whack of the ruler, Daisy remembered. That was a definite down-side to that room.

The bathroom - Daisy could only remember one significant thing that happened in the bathroom, and that was when Harry sat in the bath and all the water flowed out the sides. Daisy laughed. She loved Harry even more after that - she could never get over the fact her own burly, bloke-ish guy could have gone as pink as a rose.

Sleep washed over Daisy. She went down the hall, remembering the memories it held - cricket, a broken leg, Henry sleeping in the middle of it when he was too tired to reach his bedroom.

Daisy climbed into her and Harry's bed - dust flew up. She hadn't slept in it since she woke up that morning to see her husband beside her, not breathing, frozen forever in a dreamless sleep. She waved that horrid memory away.

But Daisy didn't feel out of place. She felt comfortable. She closed her eyes and knew that it was her time to go.

Author's Note

Is it good - supposed to be a peaceful story.