Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!
For this session we read an excerpt from the novel “Autumn” by Ali Smith, posted below.
Our prompt was: “Write about comforting a child.”
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Excerpt from Autumn by Ali Smith
Elisabeth strapped her rollerblades on, laced them up and went round to Daniel's house. Daniel was in the back garden. Elisabeth rollerbladed down the path.
Oh hello, Daniel said. It's you. What you reading?
I couldn't get to sleep last night, she said.
Wait, Daniel said. First of all, tell me. What are you reading?
Clockwork, she said. It's really good. I told you about it yesterday. The
one about people making up the story but then the story becomes true and starts to happen and is really terrible.
I remember, Daniel said. They stop the bad thing happening by singing a song.
Yes, Elisabeth said.
If only life were so simple, Daniel said.
That's what I'm saying, Elisabeth said. I couldn't sleep.
Because of the book? Daniel said.
Elisabeth told him about the pavement, her feet, her father's face. Daniel looked grave. He sat down on the lawn. He patted the place on the grass next to him.
It's all right to forget, you know, he said. It's good to. In fact, we have to forget things sometimes. Forgetting it is important. We do it on purpose. It means we get a bit of a rest. Are you listening? We have to forget. Or we'd never sleep ever again.
Elisabeth was crying now like a much younger child cries. Crying came
out of her like weather.
Daniel put his hand flat against her back.
What I do when it distresses me that there's something I can't remember, is. Are you listening?
Yes, Elisabeth said through the crying.
I imagine that whatever it is I've forgotten is folded close to me, like a sleeping bird.
What kind of bird? Elisabeth said.
A wild bird, Daniel said. Any kind. You'll know what kind when it hap-pens. Then, what I do is, I just hold it there, without holding it too tight, and I let it sleep. And that's that.
Then he asked her if it was true that the rollerskates with the lights on the backs of them only worked on roads, and if it was true that the lights in the backs of them didn't come on at all if you rollerskated on grass.
Elisabeth stopped crying.
They're called rollerblades, she said.
Rollerblades, Daniel said. Right. Well?
And you can't rollerblade on grass, she said.
Can't you? Daniel said. How very disappointing truth is sometimes. Can't we try?
There'd be no point, she said.
Can't we try anyway? he said. We might disprove the general consensus.
Okay, Elisabeth said.
She got up. She wiped her face on her sleeve.
Credit: Ali Smith
Connections in Narrative Medicine 