The Cocoon Within

It was one of those dreary September days, rain, rain, rain, and too drab outside to even want to bother getting dressed to venture outdoors. Ariana snuggled further into her pink fluffy oversized dressing gown, securing it around her with its soft belt. She padded across the living room floor towards the kitchen in her matching pink furry slippers. The constant patter of the rain against the window played a musical background beat. 

"Would you like a cuppa, Granpey?" Ariana called over to the elderly man sitting in the wooden rocker in front of the blazing fire. 

The sound of gunfire blasted out from the TV as a scene from an old Western movie dramatically played on. Granpey turned and looked over at Ariana from his rocker and smiled, a slightly toothless smile as his face crinkled into the most amazing smile. It was a smile that Ariana loved dearly; he was like a father to her, in fact, the only real father she had ever known. 

"Aye, Sweetpea, that would be just tidy," he winked in approval and turned back to his Western as he began to fill his old pipe with tobacco. 

Ariana smiled to herself as she thought about her beloved Granpey, the most upbeat person that she knew, and for as long as she could remember she had never heard a stern word from him. He had always been nothing but encouraging to her throughout her life, if a little challenging at times, but even then, his purpose was always with the right intentions, to help her become a better person. 

Granpey had moved to England from Aberfeldy, Scotland, some twenty years ago, when Ariana's parents had still been alive and being her only surviving relative, he had taken her in following their deaths and raised her as his own. She beamed back at him and padded over to the kitchen to make the tea. She walked through the cosy kitchen, which was warm, from the continuous heat emitting from the large Aga, the centre piece and heart of the kitchen. Ariana had added a feminine touch to the kitchen over the years. Dotted about the kitchen hung bright wind chimes with blue, yellow and red patterned chrome, and wooden butterflies chiming a gentle melody as the slight breeze from the open window dictated. Being the main cook of the household and cooking being something that Ariana really enjoyed, the Aga had a seemingly never-ending supply of Scotch Broth simmering away in an oversized pot on most days. As Ariana made the tea she thought about her parents, the parents that she had never known, yet had come to love in a memory created and kept alive by the stories that Granpey had told her over the years, stories that Ariana cherished in her heart almost as though she had known her parents; funny how dead people can live on in one's mind seemingly so alive. 

Her fingers instinctively felt for the small locket at her neck that held tiny photographs of her parents and she ran her thumb over the smooth silver casing; a habit whenever she thought of them or perhaps a comforting gesture.

 "Granpey, tell me the story of how my parents met again please!" a beseeching request with an equally beseeching facial expression directed towards Granpey as she held out the mug of tea as though it were a bribe. 

He eagerly took the mug and beamed his toothless grin. "Aye, you love that story lass. I can't count the number of times I have told and retold this one to you, my love." 

"Please, Granpey!" cried Ariana as she settled on a large bean bag at his feet, snuggling into it as she slurped her tea, all the while smiling back at him with a cheeky you just can't say no to this cute face look. 

He turned the volume down on the TV and then after much tea slurping, he proceeded to recount the story he had told on a multitude of occasions. "It was a cold and dark November night," he cleared his throat, slurped some more tea and continued, "and your father had just left work after handing over to the night shift. As he was driving home, he decided to take Mayflower Way instead of going along the Hoover bypass to avoid the ongoing roadworks..."