Thanks for the Memories
One of my Father’s many hobbies was collecting driftwood. The grand prize was finding a piece of wood the perfect size and shape to use as a walking stick, I had to admit he spent long hours searching and when he found that stick, it was like finding gold.
My Mother discovered it in the boxes of keepsakes years later, I marveled at its smooth texture, perfectly sculptured by nature a long-lost treasure of my fathers, even though in his later years he never used it.
“See if you can find the perfect piece of driftwood.” He would say on our holidays on the coast which were rare, being one of nine children. We competed in daily challenges to see who could find the prettiest sea shell, the shiniest stone or a piece of driftwood better than any in our father’s collection.
“The smoother it is, the older it is.” He said, whilst inspecting our finds.
This memory came back to me walking on the beach with my own children. I stumbled over a piece of driftwood which had the same qualities as my father’s walking stick, only this one was small enough for a child. My children imagined it possessed magical powers, I day dreamed about a boy, a loner, someone who was use to being bullied. Just Imagine if he had the power to change everything, what would he do? And what would be the consequences of his revenge?
That is how the novel Driftwood evolved and I get so many stories swimming around in my head that I need to just settle on one for now. Yet this one will evolve eventually.