"Sooner or later, somehow, anyhow, I was bound to write a novel. It seems vain to ask why. Men are born with various manias: from my earliest childhood, it was mine to make a plaything of imaginary series of events; and as soon as I was able to write, I became a good friend to the paper-makers."Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)

Friday, 6 April 2012

A Picture Remembered

When some people flick through a wedding album they might point out a favourite photograph. Often that image might be the exchanging of rings, the first kiss or maybe even cutting the cake. Whichever it is, the chances are fair that it will be one of the happy couple. However, if I was to show you just one photograph from my wedding album, you wouldn't get to see me or my husband. There wouldn't be a glimpse of my scarlet red wedding dress or my husband's family tartan. The image that sums up my wedding shows only my son Christopher, dressed up to the nines in his kilt with the faint white line around his lightly tanned face showing the previous day's haircut to make his usual mop of unruly hair more presentable. His eyes are focused straight ahead as he carefully tries to contain his emotion, but a single tear escapes and rolls down his cheek frozen there for eternity in my favourite photograph, snapped at exactly the right moment. When I look at that image I can remember every detail of our wedding day. I can see our best man's comforting hand on his shoulder. I can hear the tip tapping of the rain on the windows. I can feel the emotions I felt that day. I will forever treasure that image as a powerful reminder of our special day.


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Just a short passage, written as part of an activity in life writing.

Posted by at 15:50
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