Polor Opposites

You could say that Aunt Fran and I Mary Louise Stoker were polar opposites. Fran was straight to the point how blunt her words may sound. She was also mothers sister. Out living all her siblings.

Looking at old photos of Fran in her heyday former model and actress. You could not imagine her as the old woman sitting in the arm chair.

Tonight I had come to walk her terrier Rufus all white with brown over his left eye a trait with Jack Russels. At least Rufus was pleased to see me. Getting the lead we headed for the park opposite Thorn Cottage.

It was a cool evening the fresh air did your skin good, and at 7pm the trees cat their dark shadows. The sky above laden with stars oh,so bright. There he was amid the stars forming a shape the amazing dancing bear.

People had seen him before formed out of stars now I saw him? Bruno I would call him, what nationality Croatia, German , Swiss. Being a romantic I let my imagination run riot. Like the song"Just My Imagination Running Away With Me. Who recorded that The Flirtations, Smokey Robinson.

Oh, the joy of the Wintry Season, seeing such a magnificent sight. With frost forming upon the ground below. It really made you feel so good about yourself Oh, joy romance being a writer this lifted and tugged at my heart strings. Would Bruno be shining in my window when I arrived home after walking Rufus.

He stood so still and patient could the dear little dog, sense my excitement or understand? They say cats,and dogs have sixth sense. We continued our walk. The appearance of Bruno, had taken my mind away from Fran. Whovexpected it was your duty to visit, although I never would begrudge Rufus a walk. If I mentioned this the reply evening would be"Pass a cuppa from the pot, will you?" Did Fran feel safe in her own world and surroundings?

Could she not afford to dream or share the joys of the Seaon with others. Did all the photos of Uncle Bertie and her son Tommy who had ied in a motor cycle accident some years ago. Make her feel like this? Could she see a younger vision of he sister deceased in me?

Rumour had it that in 1936 Aunt Fran had surprised everyone by taking off with a troop of actors. Her father a preacher had never forgiven her. She had also done small screen and clothes modeling.

Uncle Bertie had been dashing with a moustache. Later he had run a gallery. Knowing his acting days were long gone . He had never got over the death of their son. Tommy skidding on a motor bike at seventeen, into the on coming traffic. A bit like James Dean life cut short.

My imagination running riot again? Turning at the entrance to the park with Rufus. I bid farewell to Bruno and the stars. Watching his leg still held in the air. I like to think of him dancing. Should I make wish on such a fine evening. To magic, love and life, with many surprizes of course.

Oh, dream on, be happy not sad, Did Fran still have dreams did she cry for her past life and Bertie, gone some thiry year,ago. Maybe she did when noone saw her, whos to say? So maybe I wull make star shapes nd Bruno of course out of dough to sell on the qindow of my small confectioary business.

Thats another thing, Fran could not understand why I wanted a business a woman near sixty than thirty. Well, Fran had lived her dream, like sime steamy novel, venturing into the unknown with her Bertie, keeping her igure to model after child birth. How good was that? In front of audience of students and photographers.

Did coming from America change her? After the death of Bertie, So any questions, one dare not ask out right. Without being made to feel guilty or a fool for even bothering to care. When we choose Rufus eight years ago, it was acceptance all though the two were devoted to each other. He ws Frans eyes and ears. A bit deaf , and too proud to wear her specticals.

Well, one could only do so much, If only she would smile and try to share in the well being of others their thoughts and dreams. " I saw an array of stars forming a great bear". "Forget any dreams, put the kettle on stoke up the fire." When not there she could do these chores herself. Was it down to not being able to live her life over again?

So many had not had the choices in life,Fran had. Rufus had a large garden and his park to run in. Fran had managed to stay in her cottage all these years, was not that an achievement?

Slowly I rose from the chair, putting

the table lamps on leaving Fran and Rufus to their thoughts. Tomorrow would be another day. Work I enjoyed in my confectioary "Joys". Customers to serve, faces to study likes and dislikes for my writing.

Imaging what lives people led by their clothes and attitude, a nod a smile made the world go around better. So much more than just sitting in an office watching time pass by. Maybe taking up writing in my forties, had made me more adventurous. I had done lot with life, and there was chance I would do and learn more. One never gre too old for surprizes and change even if it hit yo hard in the face sometime.

Doubtful, that Fran would have the kettle on for me tomorrow or the day after. I watched as the stars shone through my linen curtains. Slowly I felt weary. Preparation for a new tomorrow. Turning over in bed I gave a sigh. Soon it would be time to start over again. Maybe I woyld see Bruno and his array of stars on the park again.