It wasn’t a problem we were left there together. Two young student nurses trapped in our large old fashioned stone museum of nurses’ past. Just two compared to the noise, the door slamming, music and TV of the usual 100 under one roof.
They all departed by parents’ cars, taxis and bus to return to their homes for the Christmas holidays. All an hours ride home from our Hospital. Just us two, that lived further than an hour’s travel were left. Our journey was the next day, but as we sat at the large window looking down we wondered what we would be doing on the 24rd December. We watched as the snow drifted down. The snowflakes turned to blankets of white cotton, as the ground was covered over in one drape. Everything that was once familiar, the paths to the roads, the rose beds along the driveways, the iron grates to the drains, all disappears to one perfect covering, like glistening white marble.
No entrance path or exit was visible as the tall mast of a street light blinkered and lit. Our home now an island and the two of us desolate within the darkened corridors above the white sea below. Tomorrow’s journey was far more thwart with chance. As the elements now determined our fate, we were at the will of the weather.
Our evening ahead did not fill us with trepidation and worry. Instead we settled on as many cushions and pillows as we could pile up. We gathered our provisions from parcels delivered earlier that week, homemade Christmas cake, mince pies, Stolen, all sent from our Mother’s kitchens back home. We sat and watched the festive entertainment on TV, the Sinatra and Crosby specials and Carols from Harry Connick Jr. We slept as we were and come morning the paths had been cleared our calls to the main Hospital informed us trains were running and tracks and roads were set for departures. Together we made our first leg of the journey to the city train station. Said our goodbyes and went on our separate ways.
The train was cold, frozen even. Some ice around the window slowly thawed and pooled at my feet. I made it home for Christmas Eve as the day dimmed back to darkness. Our story of two left in the stone museum of our student residential home was not abandonment. To us it was an adventure, an experience to remember all 23rd of Decembers. Homemade cake, companionship and friendship everlasting. Sometimes an experience made through chance can be richer than the end journey itself. It reminds us that all is well, all will be well and that faith takes us to another day.
(Image from Google images)
- Weekly Writing Challenge: Ghosts of December 23rds Past (dailypost.wordpress.com)
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- Ghosts of December 23rds Past – The Poetic Take (writingequalspassion.wordpress.com)