Emma . Whosezat ? me am as I am m/ma/me/am
Emma is the name of the lady whose life was cut short. A slip of a thing she was the lady my dad always longed to see. his Mum. She died when he was four. He could never get her face. But he did remember her smell ….the lavender, and he kept a tear stained photo of her in his drawer, And my god she looks alarmingly like me. Same colouring,eyes, slim wrists.. So if really like me I don’t understand why my Grandfather fell in love with her at all. But they did he was 17 and she 15 when they met. And she was only aged 30 when she died, He never looked at another woman. And she only ever loved him, a bit of a rogue who wanted gold, and she sat waiting for him. But Emma is so long ago. So it doesn’t make sense that I know her, but I do. I have dug around and found so much on them both. Most is official stuff. And thank you to the documents I found I’ve even heard her voice, a scream! (no ghosts), which is more than my dad did. Emma is also (be one by one) all the women who have gone before her, the ones I know about or have heard about; I have got their names if nothing else. They are the ones I could never have known. Emma is also the one of the women (one by one) who I might have known but never seen, got snobbish or maybe taken too soon, like her.Emma is also my Mum as I knew up to a few years back before she died, but now I know her as the person she wanted to be, Emma is all of the people Mum loved and who I might not loved as much as she did. The Mum who may have had more wisdom than me, but probably not. It doesn’t matter.I love you Emma all of you em/ma/me/am . And I look up to you from down here and I hope I am not talking to myself. There again I hope I am not talking to ghosts,I don’t do that because I really don’t believe in ghosts and you were here as real once,always real just simply there before me. I seem to be on top of the new pile, may be not but everyone left for other places so on these terms I am on my own, and I need you Emma more than ever. Stay.
Rosie. the child in me(& bobs who is still around and gilly-bobs too OMG – thanks dad) naivety, stupidity, mini me, quite a lot of me, don’t entirely want to loose me.me. Gillian lurks here But don’t ever call me Gillian. Like what teachers did.
Gillian or ‘Heh you’or no name at all. for the me who gets it wrong. especially the one whshe is wrong and has to turn round and hear that name. Put me in a hole. Watch the hole. Hold your breath. You will never see the name here.
Gill McGrath for a kind of me. Not quite all of me. Rosie and the best bits of Emma hover a little here. Stay there girls . Don’t go
Gill McG. for the me in charge of me. Can do anything. All things to all people and doesn’t mind.but needs to be Gill first, or it doesn’t work.
And Gill. (is all the aforesaid) who counts cars and files things and collects things and is mildly obsessive about certain things and has a love affair with paper is fairly orderly on a good day. But vulnerable to falling out of trees.Getting it wrong. Sometimes talks too much. Reels in shock . But basically on the very best of days is also none of the above!