Phrase Writers Group

At every U3A (University of the Third Age) Creative Writing meeting we are given (optional) homework, a subject or phrase to inspire a story or poem.

This week's subject -- Here to help

Friends donated their (first) names

FOUND

“Found it” squealed Polly, her pigtails bouncing higher than her two elder brothers.

Peter and Bob watched proudly, while their father stood further away.

It was the family’s weekly treasure hunt in their much-loved albeit slightly unkempt garden. The children searched for ingredients for their supper, hidden early in the morning by their mother. And often found herbs, fruits and vegetables that grew anyway.

Polly carefully put the box of eggs in the wheelbarrow used to store their booty. She looked at her father, who so encouraged all his children no matter what their endeavours. His smile seemed a little sad. Polly knew what was necessary.

“Bob”, she called. “Dad needs a lesson”.

Bob trotted over. His mother had tried her best to get everyone calling him ‘Robert’. Polly struggled with the word when she was younger, while ‘Bob’ came easily.

The children surrounded their father. This was Bob’s big moment; he had several every day, whenever kindness was in order.

A group hug followed, but not just any hug. Polly had patented Bob’s ‘How to hug’. No matter that the children smelled of garden and grass, and the boys of compost. Dad’s newly washed shirt was soon covered in mucky handprints. His wife accepted extra washing as an occupational hazard, and one she relished.

Dad’s smile reached his eyes, and the children resumed their supper search.

He watched his children, then their mother and his wife.

Dad felt guilty his wife was so busy. Washing, cleaning, cooking, her activities with the Women’s Institute and helping at their church. And childcare, itself a full-time occupation. Seemed forever since they had read the papers together on their ancient sofa, inherited from the previous owners when they bought their house shortly after getting married.

“Found it” celebrated Peter, as he held aloft a bunch of onions from his corner of the garden. Each of the children had their own areas, though Peter took gardening more seriously. On family walks in the country he would take clippings of anything that looked interesting and plant them. Some worked better than others.

Polly was getting frustrated; finding the eggs seemed an age ago, far more than the few minutes. Bob handed her a ripe blackberry he had selected from several not yet ready for harvesting. He offered it in the palm of his hand, the way they fed sugar lumps to Paddy the donkey at the local farm. Polly smiled and scoffed it, with a little more decorum than Paddy.

Bob wandered off.

Polly had long decided to write dictionaries when she grew up. Her parents had met at a library. Dad loved fiction while Mum had shelves full of reference books and an almost complete Encyclopaedia Britannica.

New words were entering and leaving the language all the time. Keeping dictionaries up to date would keep her busy. And Polly had an important meaning to add. ‘Bob’ as a synonym for ‘kindness’.

Peter approached his mother. He liked browsing her encyclopaedia volumes. Always found something interesting, and often happened upon a plant to research at the garden centre.

“Mum, can I borrow the H volumes?”

“One at a time” she replied. “They’re big and bulky”.

She trusted all her children to take care of things, without being reminded.

Her husband wandered into the kitchen.

“Time for a pot of tea” he said. “What’s your flavour today?”

His wife smiled.

“Whichever I can relax with on the sofa”.

“Coming up”.

When he took the brew and her delicious cookies into the living room, there were two book-sized parcels on the table, with His ’n’ Hers labels.

It was a struggle as to which came first, cookies or surprise gifts. The edibles would keep a little longer.

Dad opened his first, encouraged by his wife.

“A history of the Women’s Institute”, that his other half had contributed to.

“Tell me about this, looks great” he said.

“I will while we enjoy your tea. But what’s this?”

She opened her parcel. It contained the missing encyclopaedia volume.

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