Decorative small object
I think we had came on it when scouting through the miles of remnants of what was once someones living room and I asked one of the boys what it was and what it was We stared at it for a long time or what counted for a long moment at that time and place. It felt like it had been awhile since there had been any day and night,
. The boys roamed and kicked through the debris looking for food ammo or something useful without any enthusiasm none of wanted to be there and it made the exhaustion worse. We just stared at this thing. Can't even remember specifically what it is now but it was something not unlike the shit we surrounded ourself with and shelped dragged hawled across Scotland through poverty flits. Shabby Chic, tea light holder, hearts and butterflies made of metal or wood. Floral things from decades ago that look like they could be easily picked out through charity shops. Couldn't believe how many large boxes of it there was when flitting last year.
The image of it whatever it was kept popping up afterwards, during the achey hungry eternity drive back to the base with the guys. All of us sleepdrived some withdrawing some still dealing with the consquences oof over exposure to something and another. No one was talking or moving around or messing about each other about or giving each other crap were all just sitting there being jostled now and again as the landrover. eyes half closed. Filthy and exhausted. Eyes where blinking slowly and sometimes staying cold. There had been instant relief that the truck wasn't freezing but now it was stuff and musty and the air just felt heavy damp and dirty. I tried to remember how long the journey back was going to be and where it was we were going but couldn't get any where meaningful.
and there it was again. that decorative thing. why was I so fascinated with it until we started to try and image what kind of life someone would have to come into possession of such an object and how much it might cost to buy one and where. It was decided that if possible will we have lots of objects like it, things that exist only to be pretty and make a room look better. We were going to stay in one place at some point when we were grown up and didn't think such things would cost that much, it wasn't like they needed to be made of expensive materials or looked like someone need high level of skills to create. It was just a small decorative nice thing that we knew wouldn't fit in our backpack and even if it could there was no justification for it that space could be used for something that might save my own or someone else's life as I knew I would certainly would be told if I tried to take it or something like it and he would of been very right.
The tires bounced of something as the landrover tilted and climbed down a small embarkment or something outside and far away. I reached out my hand and steadied myself on one of the guys held on my hand, he didn't look at me or say anything and had never done it before. He held it all the way back I began to lean on him. No one had any words.
It was less the cost it was oppurtinity, the kind of shop that might sell it the kind of day where someone might browse and choose it, the relationship where would be given as a gift. I was told later that the smile we gave as we thought about that kind of living and us living that life was noticed and appreciated.
It was feminine but we thought it was more than a longing to be and feel pretty.. The life was hard and paintful and we were never physically well and a life of about wearing pretty dresses, eating party food and gossip and giggling in a nice warm clean room decorated room would be fine but it wasn't possible at that time.
It starting to add itself to sleep issues when we did get back and we began to feel colder and scared that it was us, a child and a soldier that was the thing that shouldn't be we were getting fevered and ended up just falling over when we got somewhere safe and warm and be carried to a bed. They said they had fed us over the next few days but we don't remember it we still don't but to begin with we weren't even opening our eyes. Seemed magical how much we felt better when we were up and about couldn't believe you feel so awful then sleep and eat for a couple of days and it would be so much better. We were less scrawny and skin was so much healthier parts of us wondered if the boys had been practising some kind of healing magic that we knew nothing about as we slept.
it became a thing, a joke us cleaning and tidying up and finding the aesthetics in holes in the ground and pock marked and obliterated buildings. Sometimes we would chuck grenades at them as we left and it was always a relief to see whatever it was disappear behind a dust cloud and falling rubble. Of I didn't want to live in a pile of rubble but knowing that we can when we have to makes for a better frame of mind.
and now.. trying to negotiate our over indulgence that is easily slipped into after a life of literal feast and famine. we read Virginia Woolf, have a little have a pink folding chair so I can rest when cooking or cleaning without going to another room. .
Memories of young men holding my hand and keeping me alive as best they could are the islands that break up the progession of denial to accepting possibility of somethin awful, to recalling in increasing detail and confidence.
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