Memories abound around me.
There's oodles of melancholy, inherited, gifted and loved stuff with truck loads of memories of other times and places in every nook and cranny.
I've chosen to go way, way back ...to when times were sad.
In 1957 I'd been sent to live with my Grandma. The story is one that movies are made of. For three years I yearned to be allowed to go home. From 12 years old I'd get a tram to Central Railway, then the train for an hour, all alone, with a 20 minute walk from the station to Mum and Dad's house. I'd spend the weekend, which was really only Saturday afternoon till Sunday afternoon, then I'd do that twenty minute walk to the station, catch the train and tram to be back at Grandma's before dark.
For either my 12th or 13th birthday, my parents did up up my room. I can't begin to describe the impact that must have had on me. That reaction was blanked out years ago!
My parents had absolutely no idea of what they were doing to me.
Absolutely no idea, their parenting skills were zilch!
Dad had made me a timber sewing box, Mum had lined it with pink silky material, with the lid padded and embellished with purple ric rac braid.
Dad had also made a kidney shaped dressing table top. There was a gathered curtain round the front. On the dressing table in a flat dish they'd made a small succulent garden, with white pebbles and two teeny ornaments perched amongst the little plants.
Mum had made curtains to match the dressing table skirt and on my bed was
the most gorgeous white, striped, chenille bedspread.
I don't remember but I'd say I must have cried harder than usual walking to the station that Sunday.
This is the box.
Inside, in the two little bits of the lid was a small thimble and scissors.
It measures 20 x 15 x 11 cms.
These are the two china ornaments I've lugged round since officially leaving home at 18, well ... it wasn't actually official ... Dad always described it as "when you shot through"!
My parents did the best they could with what they knew. There was never a skerrick of love.
Writing for this weeks theme has prompted me to ponder if this where my love of timber boxes and chenille bedspreads stemmed from?
For more memories pop over to Dani's.
P.S. Mum would have been 89 today August 11 ... synchronicity at it's best here!
That's a pic of Mum up above in my blog header, left side with a fringe. That was 1935. Mum was 14, her Dad had been killed that year after being thrown from a Bondi tram. The tram had lurched, he was hurled into the path of an on coming tram Mum had been a real Daddy's girl ... her face says it all ... she never got over it!
♥♥♥P.P.S: Since posting this last night I've received some extremely touching emails and comments.
Please be assured my life is perfect, I'm extremely happy and very blessed!
For my first fifty years life was a roller coaster, then at fifty I grew up, I quit
the blaming and loathing!
In 2003 I completed a sociology degree. I learnt the art of being objective, of research, of asking questions, at last life began to make sense!
Thank You Blogging Darlings for being so kind. ♥♥♥
