Contest #192 shortlist ⭐️

50 comments

Fiction

It had taken them six months of gentle persuasion to convince mum to leave the house she’d lived in for sixty years and relocate to a nursing home on the other side of town. Mum’s Victorian villa with its three floors of generously proportioned rooms had become too large for her to manage. It was a cluttered arcade, displaying keepsakes collected over a lifetime and way beyond her powers to keep clean. It would be unkind if I described mum as a hoarder, but there were knickknacks and oddments littering every horizontal surface and she’d adorned the walls with memorabilia spanning seven decades; family photographs, certificates of academic achievement and every school sports day prize, including my triumph at the under-twelves egg-and-spoon race and fabled upper-sixth double-gold for shot-put and javelin. The crowning glory of each room was the ornate hand-crafted plaster cornice that now harboured finespun veils of cobwebs, hosting legions of desiccated insects; their limbs entangled forever in its merciless death grip. Mum had lived there so long that she’d become entwined in the property's fabric too and lacking the tools required for major excavation and extraction, her voluntary departure after weeks of negotiation was a surprise as much as a blessed relief. 

During my father’s protracted illness, Mum had refused our regular offers of domestic assistance and she’d persevered with an old vacuum cleaner that wheezed its way round the property, coughing out clouds of dust and grit in its wake. Loose fibres often wrapped around its spinning brushes and jammed the motor as she shoved the rickety device over her threadbare carpets. Most weeks, I’d receive an urgent call to resuscitate the infirm beast and free it from yards of knotted yarn. Mum would explain the incident, and her incredulity at the problem belied a deeper issue. She’d talk about the dilemma as if it was exceptional instead of a regular weekly hazard. We did what we could to help her, popping round every week to wash the piles of crockery and pans in the sink, but that was all mum would allow. She was proud of her independence and queen of her domain. 

You don’t want to clean every time you visit, she’d say, especially when I have the help to manage that sort of thing. 

In fact, “the help” hadn’t attended for a couple of years, ever since the expensive cutlery went missing. I’d reminded her countless times about the police investigation and all the questions about the missing silverware. However, mum maintained “the help” would return when she’d recovered from her illness. 

Anyway, you must think I’m rude, she’d say. More tea, anyone?

We’d look at each other and declined yet another steaming beverage. There’s only so much tea one can drink during an afternoon’s visit and homemade cake has a habit of packing on extra pounds.

During the last year, mum preferred to remain indoors and hated the idea of shopping for groceries. We’d help with food supplies and quietly organised her utility payments. Mum’s decline became more apparent the more time we spent together. In our latter visits, her conversational skills would often dissolve without warning. Our jolly banter would flag and then peter-out, leaving us with awkward moments of bewilderment. Mum’s eyes would drift and glaze-over like a pair of agate marbles abandoned in a school playground. Unfazed by mum’s lapses of concentration, we developed a subtle strategy of intervention; taking turns to cough or create an amusing distraction. Our discreet tactics were enough to draw her back from beyond; she’d blink and smile as if we’d just arrived, and offer us another nice cup of tea. Naturally, we’d decline again and promoted subjects we knew she enjoyed talking about. Mum had an impressive recall for wartime incidents and could itemise episodes from my childhood I’d rather forget. However, with recent events, she displayed howling gaps in her memory. She’d could list all the members of the English royal family from the thirteenth century to present day with associated historical notes of interest, but then she’d offer us endless cups of tea, appearing oblivious to the duration of our visit. We never corrected her and for good reason; I’m sure she’d have been mortified.

I called Doctor Reid, mum’s local G.P., and he advised an immediate visit to his surgery. He hadn’t spoken to mum for a year and expressed his surprise when I outlined her recent decline. Doctor Reid warned me mum’s behaviour would become more erratic. It was Doctor Reid who’d recommended I attend the appointment, however we’d accompanied mum at her request; she’d become nervous about leaving the safety of her home. His prognosis wasn’t optimistic, and he’d wanted to confirm mum’s domestic arrangements; did she have help or would she consider moving to supported housing? Mum’s deteriorating attention and forgetfulness alarmed him and he was surprised we hadn’t taken steps to rehouse her. I told him we’d noticed the minor changes, however I had refused to admit the advance of her illness. Doctor Reid voiced his concerns in direct terms and told us to take action before a serious accident occurred. We’d never forgive ourselves if mum hurt herself or set the house on fire.

Jill and I agreed the time had come to make a plan of action. Mum's welfare and long term health had become a pressing matter. She had moments of lucidity and periods when her capacity was questionable. We discussed the situation with mum and she agreed to allow us to pack her possessions. Mum didn’t know where to start and we assured her we’d take care of everything.

Later that night at home, we discussed the practicalities and Jill suggested we take a pragmatic approach. 

But there’s so much stuff, I said, sighing as we flopped down on our sofa.

The choice is straightforward, she said. Junk it, keep it, or donate to charity.

Simple as that?

There’s no other way. 

The options are never that simple, especially with such a heavy load of sentimental baggage. Mum had squirrelled away treasure for a rainy day that never arrived and yet the expectation hovered like famished carrion. We ventured back to mum’s the next morning and commenced “operation junk, keep or donate.” Mum provided an endless supply of heavy-duty black plastic bags, and Jill contacted the local removal company for archival boxes. Over the next fortnight, we made steady progress, and I organised the bags and boxes as they accumulated in every room. The choice was tricky and tested our patience as we debated each item on its merits and listened to mum while she recalled its history. I packed and labelled everything according to our scheme and we progressed from room to room, shutting the doors behind us as we descended to the ground floor.

It took over two weeks to reach the downstairs reception. We’d left it until last because it contained most of my late father’s prized belongings. It had remained untouched since his demise, and making decisions about what to keep would be hard for me, too. However, Jill was brutal, which is always easy when it’s not your property. It was painful to be parted from his stuffed pike. I recall hiding behind the sofa as a youngster when dad brought that home and I had nightmares about those rows of teeth. It was as close to a shark as I’d ever seen and we nicknamed it “Jaws” after that year’s blockbuster movie. “Jaws” didn’t seem as scary now. Half its fangs had fallen out and the shiny scales had lost their lustre behind the cracked glass of its display case. 

Junk it, Jill pronounced inverting her thumb like a heartless Roman emperor.

It was tough, but after a cup of tea we all agreed; for now, at least.

The furniture was easier to agree on, as mum’s nursing home had limited space. A modest ensuite bedroom isn’t best placed to receive a cumbersome oak desk, upright piano or a nine-feet tall wooden grandfather clock, let alone a Duresta sofa and an eight-piece dining table set complete with matching sideboard. We bagged the junk, boxed a few of the pictures and souvenirs and decided all the books could go to the Cancer Research shop in town.

It was painful, but we got there in time for a nice cup of tea at the end of our last day of sorting. Mum would have one last night at home and tomorrow we’d transport her to the Star Hills Nursing Home; her new residence for the foreseeable future. We weren’t in a rush to sell the old house and the estate agents could value the place despite the bags and boxes in all the rooms. We left mum with a packet of cereal and milk for her breakfast and checked the precious kettle was on hand for her morning cuppa.

The next day proved less straightforward than we imagined. We arrived around nine in the morning to find mum outside in her wellingtons, crushing collapsed cardboard boxes underfoot. She saw us and offered to put the kettle on.

You’re up early, I said. Couldn’t you sleep?

You know me, love, she said. I don’t enjoy lying around.

As we enjoyed a lovely cup of tea together, mum reported yet another restless night. According to her account of events, she’d not slept well since we started the packing.

It was Jill who first discovered the truth. She’d popped out of the kitchen to use the downstairs toilet and encountered dad’s stuffed pike. “Jaws” was above the fireplace, where she’d first seen it, beside the candlesticks we’d packed away and all the books set aside for the charity shop. In fact, everything in the reception room had been replaced exactly where it had been before.

Jill returned to the kitchen, biting her lip and assumed her seat next to me. I crunched my forehead, looking at her and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Through the open reception room door, I spotted “Jaws” smirking at me from within his glass display cabinet. The reality of our situation dawned on me. Mum was quite happy where she’d lived for seven decades.

Now then, mum said, brandishing her tea pot. Would anybody like more tea?


The End 

April 08, 2023 03:48

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50 comments

Amanda Lieser
16:28 Apr 29, 2023

Hi Howard! CONGRATULATIONS ON THE WIN! This story certainly deserved it with its beautiful imagery and heart warming ending. I loved the way this story felt like talking to a friend or family member. I also loved the characterization of the mother which we got in bits and pieces throughout the tale. I thought the motif of the tea pot was brilliantly done-with its sense of “spilling the tea” about the mother. Nice work!!

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Howard Halsall
08:19 Apr 30, 2023

Hey Amanda, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your positive thoughts. I had a lot of fun writing that tale, so it’s wonderful to receive your comments and know it had a such a profound impact. Take care HH

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Shahzad Ahmad
21:18 Jul 17, 2023

Howard you managed to pack the throes of old age with the clutter that accumulates over time and yet thrown in some humour as well. Very creative and emotional. Well done!

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Howard Halsall
21:40 Jul 17, 2023

Hey Shahzad, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your positive feedback. I’m glad you enjoyed the humour and hope the themes resonate with you for a while. Take care HH

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Lily Finch
17:02 Apr 26, 2023

Howard Halsall! I have been reading your stories silently aware that you were going to be shortlisted or win one day soon. Your stories are awesome. I am so pleased that you made the shortlist. WooHoo! LF6.

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Howard Halsall
23:33 Apr 26, 2023

Hey Lily, Thank you for your flattering words and support. It’s heartwarming to know that my stories have a positive impact and it’s encouraging when one gets feedback. Waiting for a response is like throwing rocks down a bottomless well and wondering if you’ll hear a distant splash…. But that’s not why we write, it’s because we have to write, regardless… Keep writing and enjoy the process :) HH

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Philip Ebuluofor
18:34 Apr 15, 2023

Congrats.

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Howard Halsall
07:44 Apr 16, 2023

Thank you Philip. Take care HH

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Philip Ebuluofor
19:38 Apr 20, 2023

Sure.

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Linda Lovendahl
16:39 Apr 15, 2023

It is your compassion for mum that rounds and captures your words and insights in this story. Love is a strong weapon of our hearts! Linda

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Howard Halsall
07:43 Apr 16, 2023

Hey Linda, Thank you for sharing your thoughts about my story; your insightful comments are much appreciated. Take care HH

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Laurel Hanson
18:50 Apr 14, 2023

This is such an elegant way to express the central dilemma of the aged: "she’d become entwined in the property's fabric too and lacking the tools required for major excavation and extraction, her voluntary departure after weeks of negotiation was a surprise ." Beautifully evoked and very real situation for so many people.

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Howard Halsall
21:50 Apr 14, 2023

Hey Laurel, Thank you for taking the time to read my story, share your thoughts and leave your positive comments ; they’re much appreciated. Have a lovely weekend Take care HH

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17:53 Apr 14, 2023

So beautifully written, and I love the way you 'show' so many items and situations. This story makes my heart hurt. I'm 76 and had to do some of this for my grandmother and parents, inlaws. And now I know it will soon be my turn. I told my children and grandchildren to take what they want and then have an estate sale. You were so sweet and tender about it all. I truly love this story. xo

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Howard Halsall
21:48 Apr 14, 2023

Hey Patricia, Thank you for taking the time to read my story and share your thoughts; they’re much appreciated. Have a lovely weekend Take care HH

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Viga Boland
15:37 Apr 14, 2023

CONGRATULATIONS Howard on being shortlisted. I knew this was a good one 👌

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Howard Halsall
18:20 Apr 14, 2023

Thank you Viga, To be honest, I’m surprised this has happened, but grateful nonetheless :) I trust you’ll enjoy a lovely weekend Take care HH

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Martin Ross
21:47 Apr 13, 2023

A lovely story, and very true to the ravages of age and the importance of things not as material accumulations but as the manifestations of our drifting memories and joys. My wife sometimes asks why I keep hundreds of mystery books I’ve had in some cases since the ‘70s. I can’t explain to her the significance almost every one played in my life. Well done!

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Howard Halsall
23:12 Apr 13, 2023

Hey Martin, From one collector of books to another, thank you for taking the time to read my latest submission and leave your thoughtful comments. I don’t know about you, but I can think of two reasons for not throwing away all those yellowing pages, apart from sentimental reason. 1- Occasionally, I’ll pluck down an old novel and dip into it to discover it reads completely differently from how I remember. When this happens I’ll read it all again and calculate whether it’s the book that’s changed or myself that’s altered and if so, then by h...

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Martin Ross
23:41 Apr 13, 2023

I have an old Complete Sherlock Holmes, 1948 -- beautiful volume -- from a '70s yard sale at an old county museum two blocks from my folks' house and across the street from my childhood church. It reminds me of growing up when my hometown was simpler and things like museums or drugstores could be found in the middle of residential neighborhoods. I kinda feel that tighter zoning, for the good it does, also helped erode the individual community feel of neighborhoods. Other of my older mysteries were from library sales wherever I was living at ...

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Howard Halsall
00:12 Apr 14, 2023

It sounds like you possess quite an impressive collection, Martin. In my opinion, they’re all worth keeping as long as you have the space. Great memories can’t be quantified in terms of an actual cost, however they possess a value that is incalculable. To illustrate my point, I believe books are to humans, what water is to fish and neither would be the same without their vital element. Just a thought…. HH

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Tomas Galvez
20:04 Apr 13, 2023

Familiarity. One of the few things I and perhaps several others would treasure dearly, like as if we wouldn't know life without it. To see it go away would be like losing a piece of yourself. Some grow accustomed to change given enough time. Some don't, if ever. Personally speaking, I'd like to appreciate what I have while it's still here, because it will be a day to remember once it's gone.

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Howard Halsall
21:39 Apr 13, 2023

Hey Tomas, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your thoughts about familiarity. Your words are wise and well chosen. Take care HH

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Josephine Harris
14:08 Apr 13, 2023

Hi Howard: I went through this helping a friend pack up all her father's belongings when he passed on. That went pretty well, but not so much for a friend of mine who at the request of her mother, flew back to the UK to help her downsize her things in readiness for selling the house and move to a condo. Every item involved an argument but it was done, or so my friend thought. The next day the mother told her to unpack everything as she had changed her mind and wasn't moving. This happened twice. She flew back twice to endure this. She refuse...

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Howard Halsall
14:56 Apr 13, 2023

Hey Josephine, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your experience. It sounds as if your friend’s mother was quite a handful; two abortive attempts to pack and move must have been an ordeal for all concerned. I’d love to know what happened after the third request for help was denied. Did the mother find someone else to help again or did she remain in situ? I assume she had an impending reason to move out…. Do tell :) Take care HH

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Josephine Harris
12:45 Apr 17, 2023

Hey Howard, I honestly can't remember what happened. I met the friend's mother one time and was appalled at her rudeness to my friend's husband (her son in law) who was a lovely person. They were used to her and seemed to have to take it in stride. I don't know how she made her way in life as she seemed to have no redeeming qualities. Perhaps she should be written about :) ?

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Howard Halsall
12:57 Apr 17, 2023

Hey Josephine, Indeed, she sounds like a difficult woman and I wonder what became of her. I’m always amazed how people like that get through life; I suppose they know how to get sympathy and work people until they drop. From what you revealed, I certainly think you have a rich mine of intriguing possibilities, so yes, why not write about her or a similar character? It’s an idea that’s got legs…. HH

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Chris Campbell
02:58 Apr 13, 2023

Howard, Where do I start? I've lived everything you've described in this story. The only difference was that it was my house and we had a limited amount of time in which to sell before the interest-only loan reached its 23-year term. It got so frustrating dealing with my mum's inability to realise the rush and her propensity for talking about every little object and its backstory, that during a trip to Specsavers for her hearing appointment, I arranged for the movers to quickly box everything up and remove them from the house. I remember...

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Howard Halsall
03:41 Apr 13, 2023

Hey Chris, Thank you for revealing your personal story and sharing the experience. It sounds like you’ve had a tough few years and I can only imagine how the distances you described made it so much worse for all involved. It truly seems as if you did everything within your power to accommodate your mother’s wishes and provide for her welfare. Nobody knows what could have been under different circumstances. We all just try to do our best. In the end, it’s all we can do. I hope you’ve found peace in Oz; you deserve some respite after all you’v...

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Chris Campbell
03:57 Apr 13, 2023

Thanks, Howard. I realised a long while ago that my mum only answered to her own drum - when it came to going anywhere. Sad as that is, she missed a great opportunity to enjoy herself. I've been here for 12 years now and I'm loving it.

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Howard Halsall
04:14 Apr 13, 2023

The life over there is very appealing. I’ve got friends who moved to Melbourne about ten years ago and they’ve no interest in returning to the U.K. And who can blame them? You definitely made the right choice.

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Jody S
00:58 Apr 13, 2023

Very well developed story. I felt like I was wondering through the mom's house and felt the stress and angst of her son and daughter-in-law. Your descriptions of the rooms are well crafted and create the scene so vividly! I love the tea theme throughout. Bravo!!

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Howard Halsall
01:15 Apr 13, 2023

Hey Jody, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your thoughts. I’m pleased it had a positive impact and hope it resonates in your in mind. The tea theme was fun to include as it resolves so many problems for a lot of people, or provides welcome respite from life’s tempestuous weather cycles…. Take care HH

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Jody S
01:29 Apr 13, 2023

Exactly! Tea is a universal comfort and tie the story together perfectly! 💜

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Howard Halsall
01:43 Apr 13, 2023

Naturally :)

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Mary Bendickson
00:14 Apr 13, 2023

Still living this myself. Mom passed nearly two years ago but I am still dealing with the relics from five generations that she had stored in her house. Never as easy as 'junk, keep, charity'. I know first hand about 'every horizontal surface' being full. And I worry I am not far from 'howling gaps in her memory'. More reminders I better not leave all this to my kids:)

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Howard Halsall
00:35 Apr 13, 2023

Hey Mary, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your thoughts; they’re much appreciated. Where would we be without all those memories? I reckon there’s always a fine balance between moving on and remembering where you’ve been. I guess the ideal scenario is to learn from the past, but not dwell on it, and proceed with determination, hoping you’ll not find yourself in the same position later, having navigated a complete circle. Oh, and if I were you, I’d let the kids figure it all out and with any luck they’ll enjoy discovering a few hidd...

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Mary Bendickson
04:40 Apr 13, 2023

Trouble is in my research into some of those treasures most fall into 'nobody wants anymore'.

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Howard Halsall
04:58 Apr 13, 2023

I hear what you’re saying, Mary, but often if we wait long enough, many of those objects become unusual and desirable again… For instance, ten years ago vinyl records seemed to have disappeared, but last year they outsold CD’s for the first time since 1987 to the tune of $1.2 bn. Admittedly, I don’t know many people who listen to CD’s nowadays, however the point being that what goes around, comes around again. Clearly, that’s not a sound reason for hanging onto a house full of stuff, but with a little foresight or luck, maybe a few select it...

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Viga Boland
23:43 Apr 12, 2023

Aw somehow I knew there would be one last cup of tea offered. I actually loved the way you included that constantly in the story. This is very well written Howard and I really enjoyed it. Keep up the great work.

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Howard Halsall
23:51 Apr 12, 2023

Hey Viga, Thank you for taking the time to read my latest submission and sharing your response. I’m pleased you enjoyed it and hope it will resonate in your thoughts. I guess that’s the most any writer can hope for…. Take care HH

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19:42 Apr 11, 2023

Howard this was very well done. It made me think of my Nana’s house. She also had a menagerie of sentiments that decorated every flat surface. I love the way you bring us to understand the dynamic between the Mom, her son, and his wife. They are trying to move forward with new circumstances, but it seems, the end, they arrive where they needed to be. Mum knows what she wants, and I have a feeling that’s the real “end” of the story. Heartfelt and sincere. Just beautiful 👏👏👏

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Howard Halsall
20:08 Apr 11, 2023

Hey Hannah, Thank you for taking the time to read my story and share your thoughts. I’m pleased you enjoyed it and hopefully it will provide food for thought and future discussion; resonance is the most I could hope with any piece of writing… Take care HH

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Richard E. Gower
12:02 Apr 10, 2023

You took me right into the house with the beginning of this story and I was able to see mum's life as clearly as if I had a magnifying glass, then my heart broke about halfway through, but, voila, you mended it again with the ending. Beautifully done. -:) Cheers! RG

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Howard Halsall
12:27 Apr 10, 2023

Hey Richard, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your thoughts. It’s a relief to discover the idea worked for you. I felt sure I’d been a bit heavy-handed in places; leaving space for the reader to ask questions and figure things out is always so important. I guess less is more. Take care HH

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Michelle Oliver
05:44 Apr 09, 2023

Such a hard thing to do, to pack away your parent’s life, and label it ‘junk’, ‘keep’, or ‘charity’. You told this story very well, and I admit to being a little anxious about to where it would end. Did she fine something lost. Was it rediscovered? She was very happy there, but still, was she safe? All the questions are left hanging for us to infer, based upon our own life experiences. Thanks for sharing.

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Howard Halsall
09:42 Apr 10, 2023

Hi Michelle, Thank you for reading my latest submission and sharing your thoughts. The onset of dementia is a topic I’d like to explore further and I regret not including the scene where mum opens up the boxes in her confused state and “discovers” all those lost treasures from her past…. I admit I left the idea hanging in the air, maybe I needed to be more direct. Take care HH

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Stevie Burges
08:31 Apr 08, 2023

Hi Howard a well-written difficult story which will presumably come to us all. It was a very readable piece and I wasn't sure how you were going to end it. No matter what ending was chosen it was always going to be painful. Thanks for writing and sharing. I just double-checked to see what category you had filed it under and I see 'fiction'. I felt certain it would be true.

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Howard Halsall
09:33 Apr 10, 2023

Hey Stevie, Thank you for taking the time to read my story and share your thoughts. There are several issues I tried to address and maybe the most impactful is the onset of dementia; how it affects the family is a secondary concern in many ways. It’s easy to accept an aging relative’s blunders as eccentric behaviour, however, so often, it takes an unfortunate accident to initiate decisive action. Take care HH

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Carly Arden
07:50 Jun 19, 2023

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