Disclaimer: No, its not mine. Just a little something to remind you.


Remembrance

When she was six, Martha Jones went to church with her parents. They argued all the time now, but for an hour a week they would drag Martha, Leo and two-year-old Tish down to the church and smile with the rest of the congregation. They said it was to "remember God and all the wonderful things He has given us", but all Martha remembered was the stern face of the priest talking about those who had gone before, and poppies, and a field that didn't quite add up in her head.

And that was Martha Jones' Remembrance Day.

:::

At fourteen, Martha left the TV on to drown out the arguments. Her parents had given up going to church when they split up, and only spoke to each other now to argue about money, and one or the other "not doing what's best for my children". Martha only looked up from her homework when the TV suddenly went silent, and she saw hundreds of soldiers, and pilots, and sailors staring silently as poppies fell from the sky. She only realised later that the book in the middle, untouched by the falling poppies, was the Book of Remembrance, but she sat staring at the screen for the rest of the programme, transfixed by the stories of the brave men and women who gave everything they had. It was there and then that she decided to become a doctor, if only to give something back to those people.

And that was Martha Jones' Remembrance Day.

:::

At eighteen, Martha Jones cried. She didn't know whether it was due to the parade outside on the street, or whether it was the fact that she'd had her first brush with death today - an eighty-one year old man who'd looked at the poppy she'd shoved on without thinking and smiled before breathing his last. Later, from the family, she'd found out he was one who'd refused to fight and been branded a coward. Maybe she was crying for those who were too narrow-minded to see that dying for your country wasn't always good.

And that was Martha Jones's Remembrance Day.

:::

At twenty-four, Martha stood with a man neither old or young, watching a service from a distance.

"...Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn… at the going down of the Sun, and in the morning, we will remember them…"

"For your tomorrow, we gave our today," murmured her companion.

And so, the almost-doctor and the not-quite Doctor stood, poppies displayed proudly, watching an old man who minutes ago had been but a boy.

And for the rest of her life, that was what Martha Jones thought of on Remembrance Day.