Super Jolly Holliday

childhood passes intermittently through grey clouds into sunlight. In spite of the bleakness magic erupts in every skip and twirl.  Happiness overflows like chalk colored lava in a swirl of taffeta and wool. Clean and darn, pinch a penny, sing and dance.  My friend Bert grabbed us by our hands one day and we fell into a world more forgiving and bright.  Nothing but warmth caressed our skin-a nice change from the dreary cold London nights that tried to pass as days.  Our days were effervescent. Our nights didn't exist.  Worries were left behind like the countless layers of soot that filled our chimneys after numerous harsh winters. Chim chim cher-ee. Every moment is a lyric to a beautiful song that belongs only to our ears. We forget what is real and what isn't and we idle our days away somewhere that time can't remember and where grey clouds can't take up permanent residence. I whisper..remain like this forever and pray for time to hold itself back like a spoon full of sugar that you never spill a grain of. 

someone breaks my reverie. I don't recognize them even though they are looking at me with wide expectant eyes. Part of my mind suddenly raises its hand and then the storm clouds drift quickly in. There is nothing. One of them gently lifts me from my chair by the window and says "Mary we are taking you to your room now." I follow blindly not really knowing where we are headed. As they close the door they pause outside and one of them quietly says to the other "Mary lost her children sixty years ago." What do they mean I think..Jane and Michael are right here.  And who is Mary?