You get to spend a day inside your favorite movie. Tell us which one it is — and what happens to you while you’re there.
It’s the 21st century and I find myself in a nursing home. Our party consists of a beautifully aged woman, an elderly gentleman named Duke and I. Though old and grey, I prefer the company of the old and wise any day. There’s always so much to learn.
This party is by invitation only. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for a woman named Allie. We wrote history together and have a story to tell. The story of us (Technically it’s not my story but I’ll tell it anyway). I’m the chosen one.
I can see that Duke wants to take centre stage but as always he allows me to carry them away to the the 1940’s. The woman listens tentatively while I tell the love story of 17yo Allie and her beloved Noah.
This is a story of love and heartache. I tear up as I tell it. Being a romantic I believe that ‘happily ever after’ is bound to follow. Getting there is what makes a great love story. Wouldn’t it be great to give them the moonlight and roses version of it? What? And risk destroying the magic of the pull of true love? Not a chance.
We are in the 40’s now and girl named Allie meets a guy named Noah. There’s chemistry. Buckets full. But there are obstacles too. Parents. Bleh! Circumstances, life as a whole and everything in between. Bleh, Bleh! I tell them how Allie and Noah’s life paths cross for the first time. My story telling is so good that they see the story unfold in their minds eye. In the cinema of their minds they see how life takes Allie and Noah on the roundabout journey and how these lovers get to each other against the odds. I take their imaginations on a trip from the carnival where they first met to the war. Introduce them to people whom the lovers meet along their journey.
Duke and I have been taking turns on telling the story of Allie and Noah to our lady companion for a while now. Sadly dementia has taken the lead role in her life so we have to tell the story over and over. It never gets old to any of us though. It may be new to the lady in question but everytime we tell it, it touches our hearts like it did the very first time. We believe that this story will bring her back to us. And she does return however brief it may be.
There are many things in life I am happy for but most of all I am happy that Allie chose to share that story with me. I’m honoured to have been able to relive many a happy and sad memory and will live to tell the tale even when they have left this earth. I won’t live to be old and grey but that’s ok. With my friend ‘The Pen’ I have become timeless. Try as they might with technology, internet and blogs; they’ll never rid of me. I am the one mere mortals run to with ideas. I am The Notebook.
Did I mention that Allie ends up marrying Duke? If I didn’t then I guess I forgot to mention that our elderly companion suffering from dementia is Allie. In case you missed both of those, they got married and Duke happens to be the beloved Noah.
A stranger knocks on your door, asking for directions from your home to the closest gas station (or café, or library. Your pick!). Instead of the fastest and shortest route, give him/her the one involving the most fun detours.
It’s 12:20 pm and my 12pm appointment is running late and so will I if she doesn’t show up any minute now. Since it’s our first meeting I have no idea what she looks like and more importantly, what the condition of her face looks like. I do facial threading and though it can anything from 5-15 minutes, I have had clients with some pretty stubborn hairs to remove. Also there are those who cannot bear the sting and asks for breaks in between. I really hope it’s none of the latter.
The clock ticks 12:25 and as I try for the umpteenth time to call her I hear a knock on the door. I hastily open the door and assess the woman who appears to be my client. ‘Great’ I think. This will be a 5 minute job so I’ll make it after all.
The woman nervously says “Hi, I was wondering if you could help me. I’ve got an appointment with a lady who does facial threading but I seem to be lost and I’ve been driving around in circles and my cellphone’s battery died so I can’t call her.” She hands me a piece of paper with my address on it. Shame the poor darling looks frazzled. Just then the little devil in me takes charge of the situation.
I take another look at the piece of paper and start giving her directions. “Ok. You drive straight down this road and take the first left. Carry on for another few meters and turn right. You’ll note there is a school on the opposite side. The name of that street is Poplar Street. Now you drive straight down Poplar Street and you’ll get to the 7/11 store.” I pause to give her a moment to take it all in. She nods and that gives me indication that she’s on the same track. I continue “At the 7/11 you take another left and when you’ve reached that point you’ll find that she lives nowhere near there.” By now I can hardly contain my laughter.
She looks at me in total confusion this time and before she opens her mouth to speak I come clean. “Hi, I’m Celeste” I say with the widest grin. “I’m glad you made it.”
Relief washes her face and she bursts out laughing along with me.
What’s your earliest memory involving another person? Recreate the scene — from the other person’s perspective.
It’s the 80’s and I’m riding my shining bicycle with pride. As I enter the school grounds kids come rushing to my side. ‘Mr. Postman, Mr. Postman!’ they shout with excitement to see me again.
I smile brightly at them and blare my horn in response. Too late I realise. I don’t know which comes first as go stumbling to the ground. Was it the scream from the five year old girl I just ran over? Was it the impact itself? Could it be the horrified screams of the other kids? I just don’t know but what is certain is that I have to check if she’s ok.
She lies there dazed and confused. Just watching the scene unfold around her. When she realises the ruckus is about her she starts crying. Shock has settled in by now. I ask her if she’s ok. She nods and smiles through her tiny sobs.
Teachers come rushing to her aid and mine too. Though they’re not too impressed with me for causing the accident they have mercy on me and tend to my injuries.
Turns out shock was the only scar that marred that little girl that day and a memory she will probably have for life.