Free Time to Let Go by Christoph Fischer

already entered the room. “You look unhappy. Is something the matter?”
    “No, I am fine. I was just th inking about memories. You know how little importance I used to give to them; so much that I did not even take many photographs. Now I wish I had paid more attention. I can see how vital they are for a person to be complete. I saw so many movies about amnesia, they all left me cold. Now I appreciate the tragedy.”
    “You are not going to get memories back whether you grieve for them or not. Let’s just be happy that mother is beyond the point where she cares. R emember that awkward phase she went through when she got all upset about the same thing constantly and became aggressive. She seems pretty content now, with or without the memories.”
    “O h, her anger period! That was an awful time. I think the doctors are giving her anti-depressives now and that is why she feels better; they are just masking everything.”
    “Does it make any difference? Whether it is the pills or the progress of the disease, the main point is that we are lucky she is her cheerful old self. Although she has become a little child , at least she is happy,” Hanna pointed out.
    “Is she really happy, or is it just because of the drugs?” Walter asked provocatively. He felt irritated.
    “How could it be any different? The effect is the same.”
    “Oh I don’t know Pumpkin. We don’t know what it feels like underneath the drugged surface. Look at all the ‘happy’ junkies, they do nothing constructive. I mean, good on them for being high and happy, as they are, but their lives just fall apart. They forget to eat, to wash and brush their teeth and they contribute nothing to society. We don’t want that for Biddy do we?”
    “Well, her life is already falling apart, Dad. You can make sure she gets washed but for the rest of it: I think it is great if her last years are good ones, by any means reasonable.”
    “I know Pumpkin, I know. And you are doing a great job with this. Now here is the piece of paper, I am sure you understand it much better than I do. The computer won’t be ready for you to work with for another half hour or so. It takes forever to get started. You might as well make yourself a cup of tea before you come back up here.”
    “Thanks, Dad. What are you going to do until mother wakes up?”
    “I will continue with my family chronicle. I have started to write everything down that I can remember, before I lose my marbles as well. I was just imagining you kids throwing it all away because it is on paper. You must promise me to look carefully through my stuff after I have gone. Don’t dump it all without having a look, please,” he begged.
    “I promise we will have a good snoop around.”
    When Hanna finally got to check her finances she was relieved to confirm that her money matters were all in good order but she was getting tired of the continued drama of it all.
    She had once carried a cheque for a parking ticket in her handbag for weeks without ever sending it off and had a rather indignant phone conversation with the council when she received her second reminder with a late payment fee. Hanna complained outspokenly about the audacity of the council to claim her cheque had never arrived. When she found the cheque weeks later she was mortified and called the council to apologise to the civil servants for her behaviour.
    Another time she failed to pay the road tax in time because she only remembered the day before it was due and she could not find the insurance or the M.O.T. Certificate. The day she was meant to do all of this her plane had got stuck in Delhi because of ground fog. When she got back to London days later than scheduled it was a close friend’s birthday party in Manchester. She had to drive there straight from the airport and only when she drove back south did the tax matter cross her mind again, by which time she had no more chance to meet the deadline and incurred the penalty.
    Today she found