Where Do You Go To My Lovely

I can feel your eyes following me as I arrange the cornflowers in a vase and place them on your dresser. Your favourites, I picked them this morning. I kiss you gently on the cheek and remind you of the reason why I bring you cornflowers every week. You give me a faint smile but it disappears when I ask if you’re remembering.

I sit beside you and take your hands in mine. They are as soft as silk. You always did take care of your hands. Your nails have been painted a delicate shade of pink. I tell you they look lovely but I know you always preferred to have them painted a vibrant red colour. Vibrant, like you used to be. Are you remembering?

Your hair has been trimmed. Have I ever told you your lovely hair was one of the first things I noticed about you? Would you like me to brush it for you? You used to like me to. One hundred brush-strokes every night. It was down to your waist then. Are you remembering?

I’ve arranged to take you to the coast this coming Sunday.  The weather’s supposed to be nice and I can push you along the prom. We’ll sit and people watch while we eat an ice cream cornet with a chocolate flake and maybe we could have fish and chips with mushy peas for tea. Or what about a picnic on the sand like we used to when the children were little? I don’t know why, but we always took sandwiches, hard boiled eggs and lemonade. The sand got everywhere though, didn’t it? You’re smiling. Are you remembering?

I finally got round to sorting out the cupboard in our bedroom yesterday. The one you used to say was full of my junk. Of course, I used to joke that it wasn’t but guess what, you were right! It took three journeys to the tip to get rid of everything that’s of no use now. But I also found lots of photos I’d forgotten we had, tucked away in a box. I’ve put them into an album. Would you like to see them? This one was taken outside Buckingham Palace, our first trip to London when we were young, single and carefree and this one a few years later beside the Coliseum in Rome. You laughed and said you’d always wanted your photo taken with a hunky Gladiator. He was happy to oblige once I’d crossed his palm with some lire! Was he hunky enough for you? You’re smiling. Are you remembering?

You look tired.  I don’t want to leave you just yet so I’ll sit beside you and stroke your hair until you fall asleep, like I always do. My beautiful, vibrant girl with cornflower blue eyes. I wish you could tell me where you go to my lovely, when you close your eyes and drift off to sleep. I hope you still dream of us, and how it used to be.