Childhood

Over time I’ve learnt that the beeps I hear are the road crossings where the coloured metal boxes stop for a time. The wheels of those coloured metal boxes are so small and they go round outside the walls more in the daylight than the night-time. I don’t know how they work, I can’t see anything pulling them.

Most days one or two of the boxes on wheels come in and people get out. They wear all sorts of clothes in all sorts of colours, the ladies aren’t veiled and not always wearing skirts and sometimes their eyes are hidden behind big dark eyeglasses. Sometimes they sit on the bench, sometimes they bring flowers.

I wish I could pass them something to wipe their eyes with but they never come to my bit. I don’t think anyone knows I’m here. I don’t know what my name is and I never have, but I’m not alone in this, there’s a few of us here who don’t know our names. There are others who used to know what theirs were but because no-one has used it in a long time they’ve forgotten it too.

I tried to go beyond the walls once, well I went as far as I could down the drive towards the big iron gates. But I felt faint and heavier the closer I got to them. By the time I could reach them I felt like lead and I could barely move. The noise from the coloured metal boxes was very loud there and they went past so fast and I didn’t know which way to go or what to do so I came back inside.

At least all I have to do here is wait and hope. Hope and wait, wait and hope.