The warmth of cats stretched out in sunny patches in the garden
The sunny fragrance of afternoons when adults slept and I frolicked, often raiding the fridge for cold treats to aid my adventures
The feel of cold cement on my back when I perched on mum’s window seat reading the weekend away
The breathlessness when I got to the terrace where I spent hours dreaming/ studying/ enacting imaginary scenarios out of my love life
The grainy feeling of sand by construction sites on my bare feet, never mind the dog poop
The fear of the unknown at 6 pm that made me run all the way from music class to the front gate home chanting “God is there with me, why should I worr-ee” [a) yeah, I made that up myself b) this was wayyy before my religious beliefs shaped up :P]
The cold despair of feeling like I had no one to talk to (what can I say, I was a study in the art of being a teenager)
The festive excitement of unloading the car that came bearing goodies (I didn’t know then that people could use money to try and buy love)
The fish-out-of-water feeling with those I called friends
The parchment feel of books that came stamped with Grandpa’s blue ink seal
The smell of Mycoderm
The crustiness of Mum’s homemade pizza
The quiet of the kitchen at 3.30 in the afternoon when I snuck in to make my chocolate paste that was the constant accompaniment to my Enid Blytons
The slurp that came out of Grandpa’s teacup
***
I have always wondered if I had worse a deal that I was entitled to. Now, I think I was actually mostly a lucky kid, I had a nourishing home with a family that cared.
