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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The Shed... was Granddad's before he died. And now its loneliness reached out to the boy from the shaded, shuffling shadows that shushed the sheltered garden. They pulled and tugged at his guilt-filled absence until he slink-slunk down through the greenery, down to stand to attention outside its wooded frame. It had been Grandad’s domain, his citadel, built from leftover bits of wood and insulation he had collected, or purloined, from…wherever.. whenever. Slowly, respectively, the boy sneak-peaked the door ajar and slipped inside, stepping into the window’s filtered light, but he was unprepared for the shock that shook him! Memories of Grandad unfolded themselves everywhere his tools: ruler, chisel, plane, saw and his Swedish workbench, the unfinished projects and most of all…..Grandad’s flat cap, angling from a hook like an ageing photograph. The boy sensed his skin tighten and his breath narrow as precious memories now skipped into his head; the alchemy of playfulness, tomfoolery, inventiveness that forged and built those ‘togetherness’ wooden creations. Then Grandad’s voice resounded inside the boy’s head, “Aye well I’m a little bit different lad I like to imagine left-handed bars of chocolate and he’d touch his nose and add, “The nose knows, you know!” The boy felt folded up with emotion as he remembered, how his words were always shy around others … never Grandad. He encouraged, praised and sparkled a smile that polished you up like a warming pat on the back, adding a phrase like, “We’re two forks sharing the same plate, mate!” And all was well. The boy now left the shed with a rucksack of renewed memories and a resolve to undertake a new project in Grandad’s shed. He touched his nose whispering, “The nose knows, you know!” then remembered Grandad’s favourite saying, “What do great minds do?” He could hear Grandad ask. And this time the boy replied, “They think…… for themselves!” and he smiled himself all the way down the garden knowing Grandad’s creative essence would live forever in his thoughts. Ian Souter April, 25
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