A young girl
4 October 2012

A young girl

Highschool student Manepha is a volunteer at Benetas Colton Close. She recently wrote this short story about her experiences with ageing.

A young girl

A fine day it was. A blue sky with no clouds. Meadows teaming with bright yellow daffodils - my favourite. My feet swinging off the ground as I push against the earth. How I loved summer. Embracing the sweetness of the air and the feeling of floating above the ground with only a large oak and rope holding me up. There's a young boy in the distance playing with a toddler in a pink frilly dress. Tony loved his little sisters, he was always such a gentleman towards us. I remember one time he saved up all his pocket money just so he could buy us an ice cream each. He was simply a nice and generous soul.

"Watch out Lulu!" I called towards my young sister, "Don't trip over that frilly dress of yours!".

She just stared back at me with her cheerful smile and rose petal cheeks. She was always, no doubt, the favourite out of the three of us. At Sunday masses the old ladies would crowd around her, drowning her in sweets until she couldn’t hold a wider grin. We’d have to wait at church for everyone to leave before we could steal her back.

“I’m envious of her charming looks and adorable smile” I always complained.

Father didn’t care much of it though, he just wanted us to be well educated. “A brain is what you need to get through life” he’d say. Always a strict and proper gent, my dad.

However he does have a soft side, outside of business hours that is. I’d sometimes wonder how my parents were right for each other. But then I guess opposites do attract. My crazy outgoing mother and formal father. A striking pair they are.

“Hello?” a voice asks from behind, “would you like a slice of homemade pie with that tea Georgia?”

Without turning I nod, knowing my mother will give me a slice either way.

“Georgia! Come play!” my brother yells from the bottom of the slope. “Come!” he beckons as I slowly turn on my swing making it spiral and obscure my view. “Are you alright?” says my mothers voice again, still standing near by, out of my view.

I continue to wriggle around on my swing until Tony slaps me on the shoulder, “Tag! Your it!” he screams as he starts making his way back down the hill top.

“Ow!” I screech dramatically. “Georgia? Is everything alright there?” my mothers voice comes again. “Yes! I’m fine!” I reply as I start to jump off my swing. I try to sprint but I fall over. The meadows of flowers turn into a hard carpet.

My brothers cheeky competitive face just a photo on the wall. My sister Lulu replaced by an old toy doll. I slowly turn  my head as I start to feel dizzy, tears beginning to leak through my eyes.

“Georgia! Georgia!” the voice from behind calls again. A young lady takes long strides towards me holding a chunk of plastic in her hands. “Yes? Hello? This is Anne, Georgia Bucklesworth has had a fall on floor two in the west wing, can we get a GP down here? Thank you” the lady says to the plastic.

I start to get my face off the floor and sit cross legged while trying to wipe my tears. The pain in my knees ache as does my swollen hands and feet. I take a proper look around and more tears burst out of my eyes without permission.

“It’s okay Georgia, it’ll be better soon” coos the lady while she holds me close to her chest. More water comes streaming out of my eyes. How I long for her arms to be that of my mothers. I start to whine, creases forming in my brow. ‘Why?’ I ask myself while I rock my torso to and fro. How I wish I could return to my memories and relive the past.

An unfamiliar figure walks into the room and mumbles to the lady. “Her memories have been playing tricks on her again” he replies.