I found our old childhood book while rummaging through a removal box for something else. The cover was slightly torn but it brought a smile to my face; a well-loved book, Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne. I opened the cover and there on the inside page his name written in blue ink in his unmistakable cursive hand-writing. I paused, remembering; so familiar and yet now a distant memory. A life cut short.
I closed my eyes trying to conjure an image of his face. I traced the letters gently with my index finger, feeling the indentations in the paper. I turned the page over and could see the impressions from his downward pressure on the pen – preserved on this page, in this book for more than thirty years. I flicked through the book hoping to find more evidence of him but nothing. I closed the book gently and laid it back in the box; he is here, with me.
Paul Delderfield (1968-1985)
7 replies on “His Name”
This is so beautiful.
Thank you Rosemary.
A perfect memory Lucy.
It really was ☺
How so few, yet beautiful words can be so very powerful. You just hit the spot. Thinking of you, thinking of us!
The words just fell out and yes, thinking of you, thinking of us 🙂
Your story touched my heart. Nothing more I can add.
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