Emma garner
Stories (2)
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Sylvie and I
It was summer when it happened. Looking back, I can still feel the soft warm breeze caressing my face and running through my hair giving it that tousled messy look. As the sun set on that seemingly uneventful day, I packed up my picnic, took one last look at the sun setting over the park and walked home, blissfully aware of the fact that I looked a mess and smelled of sweet sweat and fresh grass. I normally didn’t stop to check my mail very often, but I was waiting on a delivery for a new book I’d ordered, I was running out of things to read, which was alarming to me considering that’s all I really did. I opened the mailbox to see an oddly wrapped bundle sitting there. To be honest, I was a little scared to open it and almost just left it.. But curiosity won out over my fears as I quickly unwrapped the strange gift. I must admit I was a little disappointed when all I saw was a normal little black notebook. More confused than ever I opened it, hoping to get more insight on what this was all about, and my confusion heightened as I saw what looked like a plane ticket poking out from between the pages, as if someone had used it for a bookmark. Pulling it out, my heart stopped as I read my name on a ticket for a flight scheduled a week from now, to... oh no, this has to be a joke.. Who on earth could have known about France?! Not just France but Provence.. the place I had read books and I mean book (s) about ever since I was a kid. Ever since I can remember I’d dreamed of wandering around in the lavender fields of Sault or driving through the winding hills of the Valensole plateau but I was sure I’d only spoken about it to family, and the very few friends I had.. who could have known.. or cared enough about this to buy me a plane ticket all these years later.. I flipped through the pages desperately trying to find an explanation to this insane gift, but found nothing.. “I can’t go, there’s just no way, this has to be fake” but even as the words left my lips I was already drifting off into visions of me sipping coffee by the water in Saint-Tropez. I was brought back to reality by my phone ringing from the other room. Sighing, I set the ticket down and went to answer the call. An hour later I was back sitting at the table once again in a state of shock, only this time it was most definitely the bad kind. The call was from my mother, letting me know that my aunt Sylvie had died. I supposed you could say she and I were close. We hadn’t talked in a while, but I spent a lot of time at her house as a kid. People used to tell me that I reminded them of her, I never really knew how to respond to that because Sylvie was known to be..quite the character. But still, she was kind to me and the older I got the more I did start to see parts of her in me. The way she saw the world, her love of the mysterious, it made sense to me why people had made those comments. I mean.. we even started to look a bit alike as I got older. Now she’s gone and her funeral was set for the following week, the very same day as my supposed flight to France.. oh well, “there’s no way I could have gone anyways”...
By Emma garner 5 years ago in Motivation
Sylvie and I
It was summer when it happened. Looking back, I can still feel the soft warm breeze caressing my face and running through my hair giving it that tousled messy look. As the sun set on that seemingly uneventful day, I packed up my picnic, took one last look at the sun setting over the park and walked home, blissfully aware of the fact that I looked a mess and smelled of sweet sweat and fresh grass. I normally didn’t stop to check my mail very often, but I was waiting on a delivery for a new book I’d ordered, I was running out of things to read, which was alarming to me considering that’s all I really did. I opened the mailbox to see an oddly wrapped bundle sitting there. To be honest, I was a little scared to open it and almost just left it.. But curiosity won out over my fears as I quickly unwrapped the strange gift. I must admit I was a little disappointed when all I saw was a normal little black notebook. More confused than ever I opened it, hoping to get more insight on what this was all about, and my confusion heightened as I saw what looked like a plane ticket poking out from between the pages, as if someone had used it for a bookmark. Pulling it out, my heart stopped as I read my name on a ticket for a flight scheduled a week from now, to... oh no, this has to be a joke.. Who on earth could have known about France?! Not just France but Provence.. the place I had read books and I mean book (s) about ever since I was a kid. Ever since I can remember I’d dreamed of wandering around in the lavender fields of Sault or driving through the winding hills of the Valensole plateau but I was sure I’d only spoken about it to family, and the very few friends I had.. who could have known.. or cared enough about this to buy me a plane ticket all these years later.. I flipped through the pages desperately trying to find an explanation to this insane gift, but found nothing.. “I can’t go, there’s just no way, this has to be fake” but even as the words left my lips I was already drifting off into visions of me sipping coffee by the water in Saint-Tropez. I was brought back to reality by my phone ringing from the other room. Sighing, I set the ticket down and went to answer the call. An hour later I was back sitting at the table once again in a state of shock, only this time it was most definitely the bad kind. The call was from my mother, letting me know that my aunt Sylvie had died. I supposed you could say she and I were close. We hadn’t talked in a while, but I spent a lot of time at her house as a kid. People used to tell me that I reminded them of her, I never really knew how to respond to that because Sylvie was known to be..quite the character. But still, she was kind to me and the older I got the more I did start to see parts of her in me. The way she saw the world, her love of the mysterious, it made sense to me why people had made those comments. I mean.. we even started to look a bit alike as I got older. Now she’s gone and her funeral was set for the following week, the very same day as my supposed flight to France.. oh well, “there’s no way I could have gone anyways”...
By Emma garner 5 years ago in Families
