Marjorie Footitt

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=3 height=90 BGCOLOR="#006699" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="02c285a1erlcgo.png"> <div> <FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Charles  Irwin</B></FONT><B>    </B><B> |     </B><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Charles Irwin"><U><B>home</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id48.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Fran Martin"><U>Fran Martin</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id49.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Jennie Dukes"><U>Jennie Dukes</U></A>   |   <B>Marjorie Footitt</B>   |   <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Paul King"><U>Paul King</U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=80 BGCOLOR="#FFFF00" TEXT="#080000" background="02ad4c00dwpwsr.png"> <div> <A HREF="id21.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Friends writings"><U>Friend's</U></A></div> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#00FFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <bR> <div> <U>PHOTONS</U></div> <bR> <div> <U>--- and when we say "Goodbye"</U><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#111111" FACE="Arial" ><U> </U></FONT><U>where do we go?</U><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#111111" FACE="Arial" ><U> </U></FONT></div> <div> <U>I may go here</U><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#111111" FACE="Arial" ><U> </U></FONT><U>You may go there.</U><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#111111" FACE="Arial" ><U> </U></FONT></div> <div> <U>I may live</U><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#111111" FACE="Arial" ><U> </U></FONT><U>You may die.</U><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#111111" FACE="Arial" ><U> </U></FONT></div> <div> <U>But once we have touched,</U><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#111111" FACE="Arial" ><U> </U></FONT></div> <div> <U>Have exchanged our light,</U><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#111111" FACE="Arial" ><U> </U></FONT></div> <div> <U>We can never be ' without ' each other,</U><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#111111" FACE="Arial" ><U> </U></FONT><U>--- </U></div> <div> <U>We are forever within.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>© 1998 Marjorie Footitt - Ventenac 11120 FRANCE</U><U>.</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <U>ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ</U></div> <bR> <bR> <div> CHANCE MEETING</div> <bR> <div> It was the childlike look of bewilderment that caught her attention. </div> <div> He stood on the wide, stone steps of the cathedral; a man of ‘foreign’ appearance, though she couldn’t put her finger on the map and say he was from ‘there’. </div> <div> She guessed his age as ‘late thirties, early forties”. </div> <div> His clothes were fashionable but somehow didn’t sit comfortably on his slight frame......as though they had been chosen by someone else without thought for how he would feel in them. </div> <div> “How odd” she thought, as he moved tentatively down the steps towards her. “I have a strong feeling I know him from somewhere, and I know that he is going to come and talk to me”. </div> <div> She dropped her gaze so as not to invite him closer. </div> <div> “E..Excuse me” he said. “Could you tell me the way to saint Martins?’ His accent wasn’t strong, but definitely not a natural English speaker. </div> <div> “It’s quite a long way from here, I’m waiting for the bus to go there myself”. </div> <div> “But I thought that this was Saint Martins” he said. </div> <div> “The cathedral is known as Saint Martins, but the town is about 20 miles away. </div> <div> “Oh dear, then I may be too late. How soon will the bus get there?” </div> <div> “You’ve timed it very well; look, here it comes now”. </div> <div> She climbed on ahead of him and paid the driver. It didn’t occur to her until much later that he hadn’t bought a ticket, and the driver didn’t seem to notice. </div> <div> They sat together and she told him that it was quite a coincidence that he had asked her the way to the exact place that she was travelling to. </div> <div> “We have different words for coincidence where I come from. You see, there are different kinds of coincidence, although the element of timing is integral to many of them”. </div> <div> “A little bit like the way the Eskimo describe different forms of snow?” she asked. </div> <div> “Mmm, a bit like that” he replied. </div> <div> “Can you give me some examples?” </div> <div> He went quiet for some time as he thought about it. </div> <div> “It’s very difficult to find the appropriate translation in your language. I suppose ‘TIMED SIGN’ could be one meaning...............or ‘TIMED REMINDER’.” </div> <div> He paused again and she couldn’t help noticing how relaxed she felt in his company. She had been feeling quite stressed as she waited for the bus, but this had melted away the moment he had approached her. </div> <div> She was going to pick up her 6 year-old, who had been staying with her ‘ex’ and his parents. The tension was still quite palpable when she met her in-laws and she steeled herself for days before the ordeal. </div> <div> “Window of opportunity would be a phrase you could use” his soft voice interrupted her thoughts. “But the basic way that we would express all coincidences is ‘Angelic prompts’”. </div> <div> “What a lovely phrase” she said “I must remember that the next time I come across one.” </div> <div> “You must act on it too” he said “It isn’t always easy to recognise what the prompt is about. You will sometimes have to think quite hard. Never the less, there is always a message”. </div> <div> “What are you going to Saint Martins for?” she asked, changing the subject. </div> <div> “I have a job to do there and I must be there by three o’clock” </div> <div> “You will just make it” she replied, “The bus is due there at three”. She looked at her watch. “Only another 5 minutes. I’ve enjoyed talking to you..........I’m sorry I don’t know your name”. </div> <div> “Angelo” he said “Angelo de Ciel” </div> <div> “Mine’s Carol Martin” </div> <div> “Like the Saint” he said. </div> <div> “Pardon?” </div> <div> “Saint Martin” he smiled </div> <div> “Oh yes, but I don’t think there’s a connection” she smiled back. </div> <div> The bus pulled into the station and she could see her son waiting near the office. </div> <div> As Angelo preceded her down the steps, her attention was riveted by her excited child who whooped and started to run towards her. His Grandfather made an unsuccessful grab to stop him as they had both seen that he was heading, oblivious of another incoming bus, straight into it’s path. </div> <div> Angelo suddenly seemed to grow taller. </div> <div> “STOP” he called. “JAMES STOP”. With incredible speed he flew across the gap towards the boy. </div> <div> At that moment Carol saw that all movement had frozen except for Angelo and her son. </div> <div> The boy, his eyes focused on her, stepped in front of the now seemingly unmoving bus. </div> <div> Angelo swept him into his arms and with an upward motion landed them both on the waiting area. The previously immobile Grandfather stepped towards them. The bus blocked the view as it drew past. </div> <div> Carol, with shaking knees, dismounted and crossed towards her son who stood crying in the arms of his Grandfather. </div> <div> “Where’s Angelo?” she asked, “I must thank him”. “I wonder how he knew your name James?” She looked around and caught a glimpse of his figure as he entered the church across the street. </div> <div> The church bell struck the hour and Angelo’s coat started to bulge. She was sure that she noticed white feathers pushing their way out of his collar before he disappeared.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> © 2002 Marjorie Footitt - Ventenac 11120 FRANCE.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> {{{{{{{{{{</div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" width=80 BGCOLOR="#FFFF00" TEXT="#080000"> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>