No school today. My mum only works for a couple of hours on a Saturday morning and will be home soon. We always enjoy breakfast together before getting ready for the one o clock bus into Darlington.
Saturday is shopping day. First stop is ‘Pietro’s’ where my mum gets her hair fixed. Pietro is a very handsome Italian, he makes my mum blush, and that makes me laugh. Next stop Woolworth’s, where I always get a treat. We wander around the ‘covered in market’ for Yorkshire Curds, meat and whatever else takes our fancy, and we finish up in the Co-op.
Sometimes we buy fish and chips and eat them on the way home.
I like shopping with my mum in Darlington. I love the little village of Summerhouse, my home.
Finally I open my eyes, ready to enjoy the day.
Something isn’t right. I rub my eyes and look again.
This isn’t my cozy bedroom in Summerhouse. It’s a lovely room, but not mine, or is it?
I see white wooden shutters on the windows with a green and gold chaise beneath them. I look towards the double doors leading out to the stairs, and the vaulted ceiling of the room beyond.
This is a lovely house, but it isn’t Summerhouse, this is Colorado.
It’s not 1963 anymore and I am not six years old.
In what seems the ‘blink of an eye’ the years flew by. Where did they go?
The year is 2013 and I am old. My mum passed away a long time ago.
The Wood Pidgeon is still outside, but I think he is mocking me now.
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