Families, Family, Inspiration, loss, love, mental health, New life, real life, social media, Spirt and soul, Uncategorized, Whatever, women

My life

Looking back on the story of my life, I see a time punctuated with love and laughter, with sadness and joy.

From the poor childhood filled with green and grey memories, the grass and the slate, the rain and the rain!
A life filled with loneliness and rituals.
Sickness and long corridors. Crying and sadness.

Lifelong friendships made on bus journeys, new experiences, and places.
Others lifestyles, and others laughter.
Finding love and loosing love, finding it again – only for it to drift away as young lust does.

A change of life, a change of culture, change of pace and language.
A change of love, a father figure who was anything but an ideal role model,
and thankfully never a father.

Memories left behind, together with the bruises and what little hope there was of happiness.
Anger and rage, rules and rebukes.

A knight in shining armour, a prince who had shared my memories before.
He who gave me back my hope and love, unconditional and everlasting love!
And in return I gave bricks and mortar and sunny times.

A time of sadness, a time of loss again and again.
The ones who loved me in a sea of others, stolen away without saying goodbye.
Without being able to share my hopes and telling that better life story I’d planned with my prince.

Stolen love and kisses at 1am gave milky smiles, not once but twice.
Tiny hands clutching at hair and sleepy eyes, and the smell only new born have.
Blue and blue double trouble!

Lasting memories of A&E and adventurous toddlers.
Nuts and bolts, falling off logs and stitches, diving for alligators, snails, M&M’s and runny noses.
Each word conjuring up a memory of boys and daily life in the household! Words when said, run like a film clip in my mind of those events.

Chaos and bike chains, swimming lesson, dirty football boots.
Discovering difficulties and challenges, jam and pizza.
Mundane and regular.

Summer holidays with kites, camping and caravans.
Rain and sun cream all rolled into one. Lasting friendships made – for 10 days.
Dancing and slush puppies.
Family holidays under the dome, ducks and deer, silently watching the apples and the bread through the glass of a cosy warm chalet.

 

A time of horror.
Of long train and bus journeys, of sadness and pain.
Innocence gone in the blink of an eye. Scars carried like armour, making him strong, but still so very innocent.

Driving and cars. One, two, eight or is it nine?
Young love, innocent and gentle. Shared beliefs and dreams.
Counting the years, counting the homes and now counting the babies.

A time of joy. Of long train and car journeys, of happiness and new experiences.
Hard work, and new technology.
Missing the long and lean boy sleeping on the sofa, mixing with the rich and elite, a new life experiences, built on hard work.

And now in the autumn of my life, I look back on this colourful patchwork of events. Some with sadness, most with joy.
Each nugget of memory lodged in my heart to bring out in conversation with family and friends.
Not too dissimilar from other’s lives, but my memories never the less.
Each day, each year, each smile, each tear punctuating hours and years.

It’s not over yet, more memories to have I plan and hope.
More holidays, more sun, less of something.
Lets see!

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Family, Inspiration, Laughter, real life, Uncategorized, Whatever, Writing

Words and pictures

1473161330596-1376577931We all release our emotions in very different ways. I write to get things out of my head onto paper. It’s said to be cathartic and that’s so right.

When I was younger I wrote in a diary every day. In fact I had a 5 year diary, not very much room for reams of pouring out my emotions. But just enough space to say what I had eaten for my dinner, how I felt, and what I did either in school, or with my friends. On the odd occasion when life was less mundane that that, I would write on some odd scrap of paper I found, and fold it neatly and tuck it in the page. The diary is full of these little nuggets of life. A little bit of history, a simplistic lifestyle. I did this religiously for two years then life took over seriously, I went to college and then moved away. I didn’t have time for the diary, and it was locked up with a hair grip and tucked away in a drawer, and each time I moved, it came with me, my little book of memories.

Although I didn’t write down the day to day events the memories from that time have been firmly engrained in my mind. Not the everyday ‘lunch and how I was feeling’ memory, but the bigger things. Working in a factory, and how mind boggling boring it was!  Working in a restaurant, and making cocktails, now that was fun! My first holiday abroad, and getting very drunk on my favourite tipple. The first time I met some very good friends, who dip in and out of my life after 35 years. Getting married. Getting divorced. Meeting my now and forever husband, and our memories from then on.

Probably like a lot of people, we sit and reminisce about the past, the good time and the bad. We have some wonderful memories together, times when we have laughed, and times when we have embarrassed each other. When times have been sadder than sad, and the joys of parenthood, and being grandparents.

Today my mind and my computer are my diary. Memories written down, and locked away firmly. And my phone, a thousand pictures, and a thousand and more memories. But that is a different story.

 

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Family, loss, real life, Uncategorized

A bitter sweet moment

The time when something good happens, only to have it whipped away and your heart is broken. When time stands still and the rollercoaster of your emotions take your breath away. When sadness is all you feel but you know you have to carry on for the life in front of you. The life so fragile you are afraid to pour on the love you feel in case it too is taken away.

This bitter sweet life is feisty and powerful. She will not give in, and kicks and cries at each beep and movement. She is loved over, cooed over, touched and whispered to.

Her long and elegant fingers stretching out for human touch, tiny hands grasp around your finger to tell you to be strong for her, for she is a fighter and each day will remember the time she shared the space with someone who couldn’t stay.

A little life who left too soon. Was here and then gone in the blink of an eye. But when she left took a part of your heart. You have the memory, the smell of the soft porcelain skin on her blanket and the pictures on your phone.

And the knowledge she will be loved as much as the feisty fighter who will carry the love forward.

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