| Low Fisher Gate was where I met the old man who lived in one of the neat little terraced houses, opposite the school I attended as a child. He soon became my friend and I came to love him dearly. I called him Granddad, every day he would sit outside his house on a wooden chair, which had a woven seat. The sun shone brightly every day and Granddad would be sat smoking and puffing on his white clay pipe, waiting for me to pass on the way to school. Someday he would press my hand on the house wall to feel how hot the bricks were from the bright sunshine. We would talk for a while before Granddad told me to get off to school. This carried on for over the coming year. Granddad was always there to send me on my way to school.
One day the seat was missing. No Granddad! I knocked on the door, there was no reply, I knocked again, thinking I could not go to school without speaking to Granddad. The old lady eventually opened the door; I told her I would like to speak to Granddad. She replied saying “Granddad won’t be coming out; he’s gone to be a sunbeam with Jesus.”
I skipped off to school calling out “I will call again tomorrow.” I never saw Granddad again, even though each day I looked at his house. I wondered why he was not there, had I done something wrong, where Jesus lived I did not know. Four years old I looked at people as I walked along thinking to see my favourite Granddad, somewhere.
Five years old I attended Sunday school, where we were taught to sing little hymns, one of them being (Jesus bids us shine also Jesus wants a sunbeam) Ah! If that’s so, I will be a sunbeam and meet Granddad again, the Sunday school teacher says so.
Happiness soon returned when one day the midwife brought a baby for my mother, (The seventh Child) she had delivered my little brother in a black leather bag, which all midwives used to carry babies in, I think?
One day whilst playing in the street, I heard Mrs Russel call out “Jesus! Won’t you get from under me feet.” I quickly looked for Jesus but he was not there.
Memories turn to dreams as we grow older, I see the old Granddad in my sleep, he his still here with me, my best and longest friend.
Story by Sheila Mary Barker
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