I am from the big blackboard by the dining table covered in chalk scribbles and drawings, the free expression of play and creativity, the piano in the hall inviting my melody,
From June bugs, a tiled hearth, the bookcase turned dollhouse with carpet fragments and tiny pictures on the walls, my own miniature world of make-believe.
I am from the bungalow beside the field at the bottom of the hill,
With horses and wild rabbits running on the Downs behind.
I am from go kart runs, Star Wars figures, and a summerhouse of fun,
From rounders with neighbours, apples and rhubarb,
From the tall chestnut tree we built a platform in,
Whose height I could scale for solitude, and whose long limbs I remember as if they were my own.
I’m from family Christmases with cousins, but from worry and anxiety, too –
From Oliver, Jennifer, Rosalie and Barbara,
From Morris, the Noddy car, and the small caravan.
I’m from small pets I loved, and Saturdays with Dad,
From fish and chips on the blowy seafront at Rottingdean.
I’m from butterflies in my tummy, and if you can’t be good, be careful,
From nursery rhymes, car singalongs and King Caractacus’ Court.
I’m from fairies in the garden, and balmy bonfire nights with friends,
From Sussex, Cheshire, Yorkshire, London, of every place and none,
From corned beef hash and an aversion to waste,
From have you had sufficient, dear?
From my mother’s post-partum psychosis and my father’s breakdowns,
From a brother whose arrival uprooted my attachments,
And grandparents who pushed me on the swings by Lake Bala.
I am from Theophilus Bear and beautiful storybooks which fired my imagination,
Reading under the bedclothes by torchlight late at night.
I am from happy golden Sussex days, the sea and the Downs,
The big box of photos in my cupboard,
Treasured memories of beauty and place held within my heart as I wander nomadically and lament the lack of rootedness I crave as I grow older,
I am from my boys, and the songs I sing as they lay their heads down on the pillows late at night.
1 comment
Thank you for sharing memories which resonate with my own……you must miss the Downs! I can’t bear to be away from them! Poetic and moving – I resonate, too, with the comfort of children and a bit of various parenting. Bless you, Alice!