Sunshine and toast.
I remember Nan's jogging bottoms and her pink fleece
instant coffee, Estée lauder, and coral lipstick.
I remember the ancient Mondeo, rattling and squeaking
all the way to St Osyth's.
I remember caravans, awnings and full blown English breakfasts.
I remember the jokes my brother used to tell and me laughing,
even though I didn't know what he was on about.
I remember split personalities and untied laces.
I remember sleepless nights and lying listening to music,
watching the shadows dance across the canvas tent.
I remember fish and chips, and fights over the vinegar,
and family get-togethers,
and trays and trays of steaming tea, with milk and sugar.
I remember the creak of footsteps across the landing
and the full-on shouting of my parents going to bed.
I remember the door shutting and knowing
I'd never see my mother again.
I remember the weekend of damp grass and gentle wind
and of me, Hayden, and Adrian staring up
into never-ending stars.
Laura Perry (13)