by Kellie Webster

Created on: October 15, 2008

THE GARDEN OF JOY :

I sat alone with my feline friends and watched the afternoon sun slowly losing its strength. It reminded me of my tired and aching bones, which at 85 years old were turning brittle and weary. It was about this time each afternoon that Thomas the young lad from next door snuck into my garden to play. It was a delicate little fairy garden built by my Son for his daughters, my grand-daughters who were now teenage young ladies.

The first time Thomas visited was after I heard screaming and yelling from the white weatherboard house he'd moved into not a month earlier.

"Everything okay?" I asked popping my head out the screen door. "Would you like to come in for awhile?"

"No Miss, I am not allowed to talk to strangers."

"Oh dear, I am not a stranger," I assured him. "I am your neighbour, Miss Alice."

"Thank you Miss but I still cannot come in." His manners were impeccable. His demeanour shy and reserved. I watched him as he sat down on the cobble stone dividers posting his hands over his ears to block the loud commotion from next door.

This became a regular occurrence, I soon learnt his name was Thomas, he was 7 years old and he liked Chocolate Brownies. He had one brother and his Dad and Mum hated each other. I questioned his use of the word hate, but he assured me it was true, he heard his parents yelling it at each other when they fought, which according to Thomas and the volume of shouting, it was a frequent occurrence.

Thomas sought solace in my garden, and I'd grown used to him visiting. He seemed at ease exploring the garden beds and the fairy statues hidden amongst the shrubbery. His face relaxed and his hands used for play, not as sound proofers.

Sometimes a month would pass before he stopped by again. On this particular occasion I noticed his usual shirt and tie school uniform replaced with a yellow t-shirt and navy blue shorts.

"Have you changed school's Thomas?" I asked sitting in the garden with him.

"Yep, Mum says we can't afford the other school, now that Dad's moved out."

"Well I'm sure your new school is just as good as your old one." I comforted.

"I don't have any friends Miss Alice. I've been there weeks and no one likes me," he confessed looking across the garden. His eyes revealed the sadness he carried, he smiled weakly as patted him on the arm.

"You'll have friends in no time, with an imagination like yours." It was true, he made up some fabulous little games in the garden, I dubbed it the "Garden of Joy", but he said boys didn't like

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