Remembering Silence (standard:adventure, 3147 words)
Author: Shaw	Added: Dec 16 2005	Views/Reads: 3280/2316	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
I was asked to put this story up again. I hope you like it enough to tell me what you think.

I remember the silence. I remember it before Granddad arrived in his
dull bull Morris Minor, pulling into the lane. 

‘Granddad!' I shouted as I ran into his arms. 

‘Ha! Lewy,' he said swinging me around like a rag doll, ‘How's you! My
best boy!' 

I laughed something as he laughed something too. Then dropping me
quickly he took my dad's hand and hugged him tightly. They said 
something about my Grandmother, I can't remember what. They were very 
serious. 

Mum looked like a child as she ran into him and blushed toward me as he
swung her around. 

‘You fool!' she said as she laughed, ‘put me down!' 

‘Come along Lewy!' he called to me, ‘the sooner you get us in the sooner
you get your present!' 

He stretched back into the armchair. 

‘Do you know the day?' 

‘November 11th!' I said keenly, 

‘And what do we do on this day?' he asked. 

‘We remember.' I said as if I were reading a cue card, 

‘So what do you remember now?' 

‘um.' 

‘Do you remember your freedom?' 

‘um.' 

‘maybe you remember that everyone you love is alive because of it?' 

‘um.' 

‘maybe you think it's a grossly overplayed piece of propaganda that has
grown old on a new generation?' 

‘um. what?' 

‘Maybe Dunkirk really was a defeat? Maybe it was told as something else
to cheer up a population who were at war and now-a-days we like to 
believe the opinion?' 

‘um. No. Grandad?' 

‘You remember that they were on your side, Lewy. Politics are
irrelevant. They were on your side.' 

‘Um. Ok.' 

‘Now let's see what we've got for you,' he said, rummaging through his
pockets, ‘I've some turnip flavoured sweets? Want one of those Lewy?' 

I did not. 

‘Hmmm,' he said thinking aloud, ‘well now I'm stumped . . . tripe
flavour?' 

I did not. 

It was Granddad's routine to offer me horrid concoction sweets before
giving me an honest present and usually the worse the sweet the better 
the present. I knew this. Although at the time I must have thought 
tripe was pretty awful because when Granddad returned from his car he 
carried me a brand new bike. It was my first. 



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