By Maggie Farran
SECOND PLACE in April Competition
I was watching TV with my Mum, curled up on our lumpy, grey Dralon sofa, my head against the Saphire blue cushion, the only bit of colour in the room.
‘Mum, I’d like to go to the youth club tomorrow night, the one at the church hall.’
My Mum looked at me with a shrewd look, her eyebrows raised and her lips thin.
‘There’s no way you’re going to the youth club, young lady. You’re far too young. Another couple of years and I’ll think about it.’
‘But, Mum, all my friends are going. I’ll be the only one stuck at home on a Saturday night.’
‘Well, too bad, you’re not going and that’s the end of it.’
I was quiet. I knew my Mum well enough to give her time to reconsider. She got out her knitting and began to clatter away in her annoying fashion.
Neither of us was concentrating on the television, until there was a newsflash
John Kennedy, the American President, has been shot in Dallas
We both sat bolt upright. I liked John Kennedy. He was handsome and had a beautiful wife and two little children.
‘How could that happen in America, Mum? I thought they had all kinds of cameras and security.’
Mum looked shocked. ‘I don’t know, love. Just let’s pray he’ll be alright.’
We watched in silence, as the television reporter picked up the phone at his desk. I shall never forget his words.
We regret to announce, that President Kennedy is dead.
I moved over to Mum and cuddled up to her. I didn’t feel thirteen anymore. I felt like a child.
Mum squeezed my shoulder gently and I could see tears trickling down her pink cheeks.
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