Please note that the memories and artwork contained herein are copyrighted 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007

topsite2004
topsite2005
BuiltWithNOF03
A Winter Day

It is snowing outside. I am sitting by a window. There are trees outside the window. My first reaction is that this is not an airbase. It is dark enough outside that I need to light an oil lamp that is sitting on a desk or table. The window is on the ground floor.

It is a dark room. There are other objects in the room and another window. The room has an unusual shape. More furniture and possibly book cases and another desk that is more formal. This room may be an office or a study of some kind in a family home. I have no idea where I am.

I am writing a letter to my mother. I can see a heading that says Liebe Mama, and the paper does not look bright white like nowadays, but of course that could be poor lighting. the ink looks black but that could be the lighting also.

The date looks to be 1 17 1908. Or 11 7 1908. This would make me 16 years old? I still do not know where I am. I am alone and I have the impression that no one else is around. It is like the others, whoever they may be, have left for somewhere and will be back later.

 

It seems like it is about 2 or 3 in the afternoon. I know it is cold out and beyond the door is a series of hallways and doors. The entrance tot he building is close to the room that I am in. I also have the sense of feeling lonely yet at peace. I know I will not be alone for long.

I feel like I am wearing a jacket that seems Tyrolean in style. Odd. It is grey and has navy blue trim or piping. It seems to be made of wool. I do not have it buttoned and I am wearing a white shirt underneath and grey trousers that have the stirrup loops. My shoes are black. (Whenever I think I about wearing wool, I feel itchy all over.)

I watch the snow fall occasionally as I write my l letter. I feel healthy and restless as usual. I have so much to tell my mother but it sounds all so very boring as I write it. Unfortunately, I have no idea what it is that I am writing about. Though I do get the impression that the topic is rather egocentric in nature. I really was an arrogant piece of work.

I see my hand signing the letter and then folding the letter and putting it into my coat pocket. I suddenly feel the need to get my coat and go outside. I want to get some fresh air. I have a heavy long wool coat and a cap. I keep thinking my hat looks like a French policeman's hats, but the photo I have seen of the uniform hat looked more like the hats worn during the war.

I am outside suddenly. I have snow on my shoulders. Everything looks so grey or white. I am walking somewhere. There are many tall pine trees around. I think I am walking on a pathway that is next to a lawn, which is under snow. The path is along the trees which is deep and thick. It is tremendously quite outside. Very peaceful.

I think I am going to put the letter off to be mailed. It is some kind of central location and I run into an older woman there. Older in that she is about in her late twenties compared to my age. 

She is dressed warmly with a hat, gloves, wool coat and says hello and asks how I am. She is one of the professor's sister. She lives with him in a house either on the school grounds or very close. I get the impression she is very lonely.

We are standing under some kind of stone archway that keeps the snow off of us. I get the strong impression that this woman has a story or history about her. Her looks are attractive. Somehow I end up being invited over for some hot tea and something that she has recently baked. I had nothing to do after I sent my letter off, so I accepted her offer.

Her home with her brother was not far away since I barely recall the walk. The outside of the house had stone work and a low stone wall that surrounded a garden. There was also some kind of mini archway that one walked through the gate and it had ivy upon it that looked dead from the winter cold.

The inside of the house was close and small, but warm and had a loving feeling to it. Her brother was not home and would not be back until the evening. I hung my hat and coat on a rack near the front door. She asked me to sit down and make myself comfortable while she got the tea & goodies ready. I eyeballed the sitting room and noticed all the "Dust catchers" as I call them and books about. This was a classically Victorian/Edwardian cottage home. Cluttered with warmth. Strange enough, I keep thinking that something odd was going to happen. Maybe people gossiped about her. I don't know.

When she came back with the tea and pastries... I love pastries, I discovered that she is not like the instructor that had abused me in the other memories. I don't think I told her what he did though I did sense that she suspected him of treating students badly. She hated the man. She said her brother tolerated him.

She wore a dress with a high lacy collar and her hair up. I think I am having sexual thoughts about her. We talk for a bit and I hear one of her clocks chime out the hour of four. I needed to meet the others somewhere. I thanked her and she told me that I was welcome to visit her anytime. I still think I am having fantasies about her and as I leave, the cold air is shocking and awakening that I am no longer warm and inside her home.

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