Quiet time.

The very first piece of origami I can remember doing was a simple box. It was my old headmaster, a man called Peter Higgins that taught an entire year group how to do it and it is something that I have never ever forgotten since. Simple in its premise, the aim is to turn a single sheet of A4 paper into something useful- and useful it was as I have made one for every girlfriend I have ever had at some point, as well as using them myself for simple desk tidies and trinket holders. 

This week I've been thinking of loss. We had some bad news that a dear friend of the family- one of those faces from every special occasion- had passed away. At the funeral I found myself swept up in the emotion, the turn-out and indeed, the humour of the moment as a brass band began to play outside the crematorium mid-service. I should say, there was an element of doubt as to whether it had been pre-arranged by the man himself- such was his reputation for bringing a smile and a bit of mischief and I'm sure he would have appreciated the sentiment of it in against the saddening backdrop of the military standards. I wasn't alone in my smiling and from what people were saying afterwards, it seems everyone had the same flash-thought as the drums and trombones struck up. 

To me, Wilf will always be remembered. I will remember the way he scored his charm across my sheet of paper and once that mark has been made, it can never be undone- even paper has a memory. So I did what I always do- I made a box and took the quiet time to do a bit of considering the many good moments to be cherished. For Wilf then, and for Peter Higgins my old headmaster, here is my origami poem. 

Thanks for reading, S

Quiet time.

Give me one blank sheet and I’ll make you a picture

Measured out with the precision of a cross legged boy.

It will be a paper box, a collection of memories

All thoughtfully gathered with a hard scored crease.

I was ten, in assembly and the headteacher’s gift

Was to give us a way to collect up our thoughts.

I bring the top corner down to the side, trim the excess

Take my new perfect square and fold it in half,

Bring each half of this to the middle again.

Unfold, turn the paper through ninety degrees

And repeat, you should now have a squared gatefold sleeve.

Bend  the top corners inwards but just to the first crease

Then the middle edge back up to rest over these

Again with the bottom, you’re aiming for symmetry

Pull the middle lips out and you should start to see

The shape of the box I remember from childhood

Taught to me in assembly hall years ago

That man may have passed now but back then he marked me

Took my blank sheet of paper and scored on his line

With a mountain fold, peaking to see a potential

That would help me reflect in the fullness of time.