Durham Cathedral 5am
Another year is almost over since Christina passed away.
When I was a boy, I used to lie in bed and listen to the river, which ran just outside my window. The bells of the unseen cathedral would chime the hour, followed by the sound of a steam train, pulling away from the railway station at the edge of the city.
Always on time.
“I often cry when I hear a train pass by. I don’t know why”
I do now.
The river still flows past the house that is no longer there – and the wallpaper and the sound of Christina, making her hot milk for bed.
I recently visited my hometown of Durham and wanted to stay near to the river where I spent my childhood. As luck would have it, the University were renting out rooms to the general public during vacations…
…I arrived after midnight and settled into a small student ‘cell’ of a room.
Unseen from the demolished house, beyond the river and from above, the Cathedral clock chimed 5am and I woke to my first view of what had always been there, but which had been hidden by the University buildings as they towered over our home.
Is she always there – just hidden from my view?
~I reached into the glove compartment of my car and found her phone. I must have put it there, but I don’t recall doing so. The night after she died, there was a call from that phone, but no-one was there. Then for five years it vanished.