I’ve come to the conclusion that life - mine in particular - is made up of ‘what ifs’.
What if I hadn’t written that letter? What if I hadn’t gone to that party? What if I’d been a few minutes later? What if I’d walked instead of taking the tram?
What if?
What if?
What if? What if?
Things could have been so different.
A few years ago the whole family gathered to celebrate my mum’s 90th birthday. There were twenty six members of the family crammed around a long table, eating, drinking and chatting. It was a very jolly affair with speeches, cake, champagne and lots of laughter. I remember taking a moment to look around, and thinking to myself that none of us would be sitting there if my dad hadn’t become best friends with my mum’s brother.
My mum’s family had been evacuated during the war, but returned to London when mum’s brother, John, was due to start high school. He and my dad were eleven when they met during the first few weeks of term. A wicked sense of humor and a rare thirst for learning was what brought them together.At that point my mom was nine and of no interest to an eleven year old boy. This, despite the fact that she used to hide under the table when they played Monopoly and secretly pass my dad money. According to mum, she thought her brother’s friend was ‘funny looking,’ and I think dad only stayed on the right side of her to fraudulently purchase Mayfair and win Monopoly.Fast forward a few years and dad has called round to see John. By this time they are firm friends, spending days cycling and hiking together, going on canal holidays, discussing politics and philosophy and doing a lot of laughing. Dad is about to leave when he notices Mary hovering in the hall. She walks him to the door and watches him down the path. She sees him stop and look over his shoulder. She thinks he’s about to say something, but he turns back and opens the gate.That night he thinks about the little nine year old who is now a rather beautiful eighteen year old, and he sits down and composes the first of many letters to this young lady, who has suddenly piqued his interest. It’s quite a formal letter. I know this because it’s now in my possession. The message is also rather hesitant, as he obviously fears rejection. There are lots of get out clauses for Mary, ‘and it will never be mentioned again.’ What he doesn’t know is that, over the years, Mary has revised her initial impression of this funny looking boy, and now thinks he’s rather handsome.The rest, as they say, is history. They went to the cinema, they courted for two years and then they married, with John as Best Man.
my parents on their wedding day
They had three children, eight grandchildren and ten great grandchildren, and here we all were with partners and aunts, uncles and cousins, sitting around that big table, in a posh hotel nearly seventy years later.That’s Happenstance.Happenstance Mark ll1973
Hiding round the corner of the building
I’ve no intention of meeting this boy
In the coffee bar
As arranged
I’ve no interest in him,
Despite agreeing to meet him that day
Hiding, the only solution
Cowardly as it is
Crouched down
Counting off the minutes
Till I can safely go in
And he’d be gone
‘You’re here!’
He’s found me
Takes my hand,
Leads me into the coffee bar
2025
Today, in the garden
Enjoying the sun
‘You’re here,’ he says
Hands me a brew
We sip our coffees
In comfortable silence
I’m not hiding any more Jill Reidy
my own wedding day
That's happenstance too!Thanks for reading….. Jill Reidy Email ThisBlogThis!Share to XShare to Facebook
