Calling Major Tom

by David M. Barnett

Maybe one day the doctors will invent a key that helps people like her unlock all those hidden memories.

JANUARY 11, 2016. DAVID BOWIE IS DEAD

He is surprised to hear that Bowie was sixty-nine when he died; he feels as though he should have been both older and younger. Bowie was timeless, like one of his created personas. Bowie shouldn’t be able to die like normal people,

he’s more fictional than real.

‘I’m not the pheasant plucker, I’m the pheasant plucker’s son; I’m only plucking pheasants ’til the pheasant plucker comes.’

She imagines a normal brain runs in straight lines from the moment a person is born until they die, with the earliest memories receding into the distance like train tracks. With people like Gladys, the lines are all knotted and weaving in on themselves. An incident from forty years ago can shine as bright as a new penny, while something that happened this morning is murky and faraway.

But sometimes she wonders if that’s what heaven really is, being lost in your memories, just the nice ones, the lovely ones.

birthday. Gladys is supposed to be the one in charge. What’s the worst that can happen? She’s lived in Wigan all her life. She’s not a child. She can sort this out. She will sort this out. Gladys goes to get her coat. It’s mild and wet for January. That summer she went to Bickershaw was mild and wet as well. People say that summers always used to be hot and winters always used to be cold. But

something very remarkable occurs.

And then he supposes it’s better to regret something you have done than to regret something you haven’t done,

Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.