I don’t want to forget that my Dad always had stamps, always – there wasn’t one weird occasion when I needed stamps and he didn’t have them – he would always buy those charity stamps – I’m pretty sure if for whatever reason I found myself back home and in need of a stamp – he would have one.
I never want to forget that my Mom would sing to me while she brushed my hair; “All I want is a room somewhere – lots of chocolates for me to eat.” In this one ray of sunshine that would hit her bedroom at a certain time of day, next to the Romeo and Juliet balcony with its creeping dark red, climbing roses. I don’t want to forget that bedroom with its soft white carpets, the lit candle on her dressing table when my Granddad died – the little dog in a cup ornament and the white enamel heart that contained all her special jewelry. How I loved that room – its white and pink warmth – the place of safety when nightmares of clowns would have me running into the reassuring sounds of sounds of snores and clocks ticking. Her pride and joy – the alarm clock tea maker, bubbling to a happy frenzy at the allocated time of 6am. My Mom would bring us a tray each. Tea, Weetabix, toast. I would reprimand her for pouring the milk on too soon and arriving with mooshly slabs where there was once crunchy bricks – so she started to bring the milk in a tiny little jug. Spoilt child – devoted Mother doing all she could to get me to eat – I was never a big eater, eating was a chore. I would sit for hours on my own in our linoleum red kitchen staring between the tiny openings of the kitchen door that allowed me to see a slither of TV whilst I sat in front of a plate of cold food I just couldn’t eat. I would feign an upset stomach, call my Mother a darling angel – every trick in the book was used to get off that bar stool and into the coziness of the lounge.
I have never forgotten how my Mom always reminded me of the story of the Ginger Cat who would sit in such a spot of sunshine. I still see that cat in my mind every time I see this gorgeous surprising little ray of sunshine finding its way into an otherwise dark room.
I follow this girl on Instagram, one of these beachy blonde yoga social media queen types, she has tattooed on her wrist ‘Just Be’ and wears a watch that points at NOW – there is this fashionable trend in life philosophy at the moment – to be in this moment and nothing else. Just be – but there is a sacredness to my memories that I want to hold onto.