Girl Half Empty

//What an odd thing a diary is: the things you omit are more important than those you put in//
- Simone de Beauvoir
/June winner of the diary competition/

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37. //There is no death, daughter. People die only when we forget them//

8th November

The sky spits on our remembrance and chases us under the overhang of the flats above the post office and the empty shop that used to be a bakery. Nimrod rises, poppies fall. Same swell and deflation as each and every grey November. Over the rain-shrivelled heads, the tops of the flags are visible. They tremble weightily in the hands of the eight-year-old Scouts, out parading. I wonder why they pick the smallest to balance responsibility upon.

I scour the crowd, wondering where the boy in my class is and if his brother’s still in the Middle East.

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