The Writers' Circle

The crimson scarf

Out of eyes of blue came softness from the soul

Bringing a question from the passer-by

The crimson scarf was worn with a grief filled pride

Bringing a question from the passer-by

Sadness reflected from every pose

Tiredness showed with every breath

The passer-by could only question




Huddled against the back of the bus, she fiddled with the buttons on her grubby cardigan.  The bags at her feet meant she constantly shuffled to keep the items from spilling onto the floor.  Wispy portions of hair dangled around her face hiding weary eyes sunken by misery.  

At each stop this traveller glanced urgently up and down the pavement almost as if expecting someone.

As her hands once again tugged at her clothes, broad bands of rings were visible.  The mere quantity of white stones made one imagine that they were not diamonds, even though they sparkled as the sun snuck through the bus windows.

The beads around her aged neck hung down to her waist were accompanied by a beautiful red silk scarf.

Occasionally the scarf would be caressed by two life-worn hands and one glimpsed a slow smile and softening in the eyes, which showed the sentimentality of her soul.

Alice was making her daily trip to the cemetery to visit Jacob and Susan. 

Today the bus was crowded and as it turned sharply around the corners, Alice was once again jerked out of her thoughts.   Her constant longing for Susan's presence went around and around in her mind. 
"Susan should be here," her thoughts demanded.  A quick flash of golden hair spotted at a bus stop would make her heart leap but in an instant the grief would overwhelm her again, for it could not be her daughter. 
"If Susan was only still here," Alice's heart would cry.  Susan would have cheered her up.   Susan would have had a smile for everyone and brought happiness to Alice.  Her daughter would have caressed the crimson scarf and spoke of the father she had loved.   Susan usually called it her scarf. 
"One day it will be mine Mum," she would say with amusement in her eyes.

The scarf had been Jacob's last gift to Alice for he knew his time to die was near.   It had been a melancholy day with love flooding the hospital room.   A nurse had purchased the gift as Jacob was confined to bed in his last days.  There was no knowing if Alice would like the gift as Nurse Bennett had been given few instructions.  Jacob had pressed money into her hand with instructions to "buy something nice for my wife" for it was all he could manage.  When Alice and Susan visited, they wore their bravest face, as tears were just an emotion away.  Barely able to conjure up enough strength to talk, he pointed to the package at the foot of the bed and asked Alice to keep it close when she thought of him. Then he held their hands and called them his favourite girls for the last time. 

Alice fell in love with the gift immediately.  It was not her usual colour choice, but the luxurious feel of the silk was unbelievably perfect.  As she caressed the scarf that day; she knew it would always remind her of Jacob, for it was the colour of love. 

Mother and daughter would visit Jacob's grave on Susan's day off each week. Alice always wore her lovely crimson scarf.    They would sit on the grass and chat about him as if he were still there. They were able to express their sorrow easily while they recounted stories about their life as a family with Jacob.  Their hearts would be lifted and closeness would wash over them.   With the days passing slowly by, the absence of Jacob became bearable.  They would laugh together and they would cry together.  The trip home was always silent before returning to the grind of normality.

It was on one of these occasions, while they were sitting on the grass that Susan said how much she liked her mother's scarf.  Alice promised the crimson scarf would be part of her legacy.  
"It will be all yours Susan" she assured her daughter.  Without words they acknowledged their attachment to a simple scarf.  

On a fateful night of darkness Susan's life was taken from Alice.  The phone call turned her life into a blur.  They said the car was unrecognisable. They said they were sorry. They said she had to come to the mortuary.    Her world crumbled.  Her world became numb.  As she performed the perfunctory duty of identifying the body, Alice found she could not take her eyes from her daughter's hair.  Hair that was damp and twisted far beyond the beauty that usually shone from Susan.  The broken body brought damage to Alice's soul that would never be repaired. As she was taken home, a fog engulfed her and every action became unreal. 

So now Alice had to sit on the grass by herself.  Susan occupied the space that was supposed to be hers.  She was supposed to be lying next to Jacob.  Not Susan.  

Her life could not be the same without them.  She felt cheated and the grieving shell of a person that was Alice could not see a life beyond the daily habit of visiting the cemetery.   For many months now it was her only reason for getting up in the morning. There was no delight in daily chores for the buying of flowers was all she could do now for her husband and daughter.  

Alice placed a cold hand at the space around her neck, heaviness of heart descending as memories flooded back. The bus trip home, as the sun was sinking, was tiring and she longed for the comfort of her loved ones. 

Passer-bys in the cemetery noticed a shock of crimson fluttering in the breeze.  The corner of a well-worn scarf had been placed securely under the heavy stone vase on the flower-strewn grave.  

In the softness of a beautiful autumn morning, when the leaves are beginning to fall, Alice's soul soared beyond grief into the light