St Maurice's High School: Conor Lochrie

 

 

Gran

The familiar smell of smoke greets me
I can hear her gabbing to her neighbour
I'm at my Gran's house
I step into the warm, cosy living room
Sure enough, my Granda's watching the horse racing
My Gran walks in with a hot bowl of her homemade soup
She sits in her favourite seat,
Cup of tea in her hand as usual
She tells me how the family is doing and we talk about football
I tell her a joke
Her familiar, distinctive laugh rings out around the room
She is happy
I leave, safe in the knowledge there will always be a friendly place for me to come to

I'm at my Gran's house
But the smell of smoke isn't there
I listen for her voice talking to her neighbour but it doesn't arrive
I step into the living room, cold and unfriendly now
The tv is turned off, my Granda nowhere to be seen
I sit down, expecting her to walk in with another hot bowl of homemade soup
But she doesn't come
There is no noise
No laugh booming around the room
I am desperate
Desperate to believe she is still here
But she isn't
Her seat lies empty
And it will forever more

by Conor Lochrie