Mrs. Pomfrey

It was so kind of her to take me out for hotdogs. She didn’t have to, but she did. And It was divine. Onions and pickles to die for. Sauce oozing, if you wished it. Their bread was just the right texture for it.And some even say “Dinglewood chilli has magic dust in it.” I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but hey, I’m not complaining. Mrs. Pomfrey  mopped up the sauce from my face. Yes I ate without inhibition. This would have been a comical sight for anyone, considering I was seventeen. I stared down at the drops on my messy shirt in exasperation.I remember that day fondly.

I liked Mrs. Pomfrey. A tiny, silver-haired women, with twinkling stars for eyes. And a smile that stretched from ear to ear. It was hard to be miserable around her. And there were days when I needed her more than I cared to show. Whether she knew this on not, she was always cheery when she heard the doorbell ring. It surprised me that she had no kids of her own… but it was rumoured that they had tried.

At one particular time, I had been more depressed than usual…  My mom and dad were going through a divorce. I didn’t ‘t want that to happen, but it was not like what I wanted mattered anyway. It was for the best they said,  they no longer communicated and there was little, if any, love between them now. Dad worked late all the time, mum grew tired. But there was nobody else, he swore.

The shed was loaded with the brown cardboard boxes that held all of dad’s belongings, to be picked up when the deal on his new place came through. Until then, an unsteady looking raft, with a makeshift tent and a few supplies, housed him. He was stationed at the Chelsea lake, a few miles from us, but isolated nonetheless. He hadn’t been one to waste money on hotels, one of the many reasons for their separation. And for food, he said his catch of the day would suffice. “I’m an old time fisherman” he told me. “Besides, I need a few weeks to myself.”

Then, I told all of this to Mrs. Pomfrey, and she listened tentatively. Hugging me afterwards. “You know, you could stay with me for a few days…”At first I jumped at the idea but then I thought of mum… she needed me. It was hard enough seeing her, with her tear-stained face all the time and since she was at home all day, after taking a two week leave period from work, it was all she did. Cry and lay on the couch in her pyjamas.

My senior year in high school meant having extra classes wherever they could fit them in. So I wasn’t of much support to mum. And leaving her to stay with Mrs Pomfrey would just have been selfish.So I declined, but still visited her every weekend. Plus on the days I really needed her. She said that “Good things don’t always last, sometimes we have to let go.” She looked at the picture of Mr Pomfrey, hanging over the fire-place.

What she said has always stayed with me. And now five years after my parents divorce, I’m so grateful to have met her. She got me through my tough days at college, my depression… everything. And now I sit here, ready to read a eulogy. My fascination and admiration for that beautiful soul, goes beyond earthly measures.

The Iron writer 500-1000 word challenge.  Choose three of these 4 elements and use the photo for inspiration. 1,000 word limit:

A Dinglewood Scramble Dog (see Columbus, Ga.)

fascination

Fat Tuesday

a kind deed

Source: Mrs. Pomfrey

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Author: nerishakemraj

Self-published poet, and fiction writer.

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