60 Second Stories
A Magic Moment in Maketu
I was living with my girlfriend in a shared house in a tiny village called Maketu, near Tauranga, (New Zealand). Shane was the owner of the property, and lived there too, however, we only occasionally crossed paths, as he worked crazy hours as a crane operator down at the docks. So when my girlfriend went back to Japan for a few weeks, I was left to my own devices.
I was still working at the kiwi orchards at this time. On my days off work I was free to spend some time down at the beach, or playing football with my kiwi orchard team, and also just sitting quietly, enjoying the garden and the rolling fields behind it; everyday having a spectacular sunset, and our house was in the perfect position to see it (see above photo).
I would also wonder around, as I often like to do, just to go out and see where life takes me. On one such occasion, I had stepped over the back gate of the garden into the side bank of grass, next to the road. I thought it would be nice to pick some flowers for Hana’s return and I knew there were some pretty, wild flowers growing along the bank.
I picked various beautiful flowers, though I have to admit, I was a bit cheeky and picked a couple of orchids from the edge of one of the properties ;P but they did have a whole group of them growing there so I was sure they wouldn’t mind two of them used as a present for Hana.
I had walked a little way up the road in my search for flowers and once I had enough, I continued walking along the road, to see the rest of the neighbourhood. Walking past the country houses, I soon came across a cemetery, which I wondered into. Looking at all the gravestones marked with peoples loved ones, I was reminded of my loved one who had recently died.
My Grandmother (aka. Gran) had died not one year ago, and as I was meandering through the graves I felt a connection with her and happy tears sprung from my eyes. She was so full of love and cared so dearly for me and our family, always doing her best to help out where she could.
I was very fortunate to have been able to say goodbye to her right before she died. I was in New Zealand when she was coming to the end of her life and our family was looking after her. I remember receiving a call from my Dad in the morning when I had just got back to the share house I was staying, in Wanaka.
I rarely received calls from my parents so I answered it thinking what it could be, and Dad said:
“Hiya Giles, we’re just with Gran here, would you like to just say a last few words to her?..”
:0
Now I already knew she was dying because her condition had been deteriorating over the last few months, but to suddenly be on the phone to Gran for what would be our last time speaking together, suddenly it felt like my heart had jumped into my mouth.
I tenderly spoke to her and thanked her so much for everything she had done for all of us, told her I love her with all my heart and that I believe we will see each other again.
Dad said she could just say a whispered “love you”, and she passed away shortly afterwards.
What I didn’t know was, she left me some money in her will and it was with that money that I was able to buy a car to travel the rest of New Zealand in and continue living my dream of travelling!!
I still had the car at this moment in time at Maketu cemetery and so I thought about all the experiences I’d had from having my car, Sunny the Subaru, and how it was all down to my dear Gran to thank for all those incredible times…
I had SOOOOO many adventures with that car!!! The story of how I came to buy Sunny once the money came through was amazing to begin with, and you’ll be able to read “Sunny the Subie, The Beginning” very Shortly.
On top of that, I was able to travel the length and breadth of NZ, joining in with many of my friends traveling together, having countless awesome times spent camping out, hiking and sharing food and drink.
I remembered cruising along the beach in the north island with my girlfriend Hana, spending 2 glorious weeks full of experiences: such as sandboarding, seeing a 13 metre wide, 50metre tall tree named Tane Mahuta, and eating a local guy’s freshly caught sea urchin. All this, thanks to our ever dependable Sunny.
So you see, all the wonderful experiences I had left in New Zealand, which are almost too many to write about (but I’ll try), stemmed from my lovely, sweet Gran… and everytime I think of her, I thank her for her love and the life I’ve been blessed to share with her.
On returning home after my contemplation in Maketu cemetery I noticed a message from my Mum and decided to call her and see how she was. I told her that I was out picking flowers and ended up in a cemetery thinking about death and the people who have died, such as Gran.
She then tells me “Oh, did you know it’s Remembrance Day today then?”…
Giles:… “Wait what? It’s Remembrance Day today?
Mum: “Yes they’re just showing on the news, it’s also the 100th anniversary of the 1st World War…”
I checked the date to confirm that, yes, it was in fact the 11th of November. Then I checked the time difference between NZ and UK, and sure enough, in an hours time it would be 11:00am, where people would stop what they were doing and stand for a 2 minute silence in remembrance of the ones who lost their lives in the war.
Giles: “Well what are the chances of me being in a cemetery on this exact day remembering the dead?!”
Mum: “Yes that’s quite a coincidence!”
Giles: “Hmmm… Maybe I was moved by the thousands of people all remembering the dead? There must be a connection there… but that’s just amazing.
Goes to show, we’re all connected :)”
Mouse on Toast
– The ‘Short Backstory’ Story
Stacks of food encrusted pans, dishes and cutlery filled the entire kitchen table top surface, leftover dinner morsels were left out most nights, and there was plenty of cosy, untouched, living space behind the fridges, work tops and sofas, without the hassle of any cleaners interrupting a rodent’s comings and goings.
One could argue, the house was infested with students.
I believe the first mouse was to be named Mindy and afterward, simply Mindy’s brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, nephews and nieces, grandchildren and so on…
One day, my house mate Ben decided to oppose Mindy’s reign over our house and bought a mouse trap.
Initially he bought a humane trap which caught the mouse without killing it. When that didn’t work, he turned to bloodier means.
There was one unfortunate, and really quite disturbing occasion when Ben woke the rest of us up one mid-morning to the sight of 2 mice caught in one death trap, with one of the mice taking the full brunt of the metal lever, the other mouse, mortally wounded and still twitching.
A painstaking decision was taken up by Ben to kill the wounded mouse and put it out of it’s misery. The method: a plastic bag, and a hammer…
– The ‘Short Story’ Story
Skip ahead a few weeks following this terrible, double mousicide and I’m in the library (one of only a handful of visits) with my course mate Ryan and we decided that enough was enough!
No more pissing about on Dolphin Olympics, Happy Wheels, QWOP and ridiculous yet hilarious and addictive Stickman Games, it was time to Bang Out this Biomechanics assignment once and for all.
Ryan proposed with great conviction that we meet the next day in the library at 5am. I heartily agreed. Challenge accepted.
My alarm went off at 4:30am and with will power I didn’t know I had, I rolled out of bed, threw some clothes on and still half – three quarters asleep, managed to find my way through the pitch darkness, down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Switching the light on, I automatically grab some bread out of my cupboard and stick it in the toaster. Not really knowing who I was, or what was happening, I stood in a state of unconsciousness, waiting for the toast.
Then, a sound.
This unusual noise gradually brought my attention back in the room, and I moved about the kitchen listening more keenly in order to find where it was coming from.
It was high pitched and seemed to be getting louder and more incessant.
I’m slowly drawn over to the toaster and without any thought, I pop the toast before it had finished toasting.
And out popped a mouse!!
The mouse, it may have been Mindy’s son or daughter, quickly scrambled off the toaster, streaked along the table top and then disappeared down behind the oven, just as abruptly as it had first appeared.
Mouth left hanging open, feet stock still, hands still held out in front of me as though frozen after seeing the Basilisk from Harry Potter, I stay held in this position for some time, until finally my body began to move again and I look back at the toaster from which the mouse had apparently sprung out from.
I even began to wonder if I’d dreamt it. But no, I had heard the sound and now it made sense, that it was in fact the sound of a mouse squeaking intensely as the bed it had chosen for the night suddenly got hotter and hotter until, I imagine, the poor bugger was singed and indeed toasted with the bread!
A Mouse on Toast!!
Not willing to waist the toast, I unashamedly ate it with some peanut butter and jam and left Mindy’s family’s house, on my way to the library, with a surreal Short story for my friend Ryan…
Tread Softly Because you Tread on my Dreams
My therapist (let’s call him Dave) was talking to me one day about something he’d learned in the time he was working the Alcoholics Anonymous program, and he told me a short story. Now I can’t remember the whole story but there we go, my memory isn’t so good; that’s why I’ve made it into a 30 Second Story 😀 So here it is:
Dave is explaining what it’s like to be in the program and the kind of people that he met along the way. Many people he saw had strong beliefs and what most people might judge to be rather absurd.
From what he was telling me, everyone who joins in is welcomed and allowed to share their story and no one in the room is to judge them for it. They take it in turns to speak to the group and the other’s listen.
So what the sessions Dave went to gave him was the respect for someone else’s beliefs, someone else’s story.
He remembered there was one guy who he met, who’s God was a toaster, and he would always take a ride on a certain bus; not to end up anywhere in particular, but just because he thought he must ride that bus.
I remember vividly the message of Dave’s story here because it struck a chord with me…
He said “If that man’s God is a toaster, that’s not for me to argue…”
And then he quoted a line from a poem I hadn’t heard of before and said:
“Tread softly because you tread on my dreams”
From this I think that when you see someone who is particularly vulnerable or someone who is struggling extremely with day to day life (like so many of us do), then we must be extra sensitive, extra careful in how we respond to them.
Some reactive dismissal or harsh words can just tip the poor person over the edge because that’s where they are living, right on the edge…
Dave told me many of his friends had died over the years from living on the edge, (Dave being only in his forties) and I could see from him a profound respect for one’s life and how precious it truly is.