Memories

I have been overseas, hence the break in posts.

I was away for a month, to help mum transition into full time care (she's almost 93), and to wind up and sell the family home of 46 years. It has been an emotional journey.

Oddly perhaps, I also found it quite a special journey. I had time to unwrap memories when I was sorting out the treasures in my family home. Things emerged from attic boxes that I had never seen before or had forgotten about. Photos sat with big question marks over them, and oh how I wished Dad was there to give me a detailed description of who was who, where the picture was taken and half a dozen stories besides.

My only regrets were the unasked questions. Dad had a superb memory and I should have asked him more, when I had the chance. But when you are young the questions aren't so important, living for the day is. Then as your road on this earth gets narrower and shorter, you long for the wide vistas of memories and people from the past. But they are fading from view and it is hard to recapture their essence.

Tonight I rediscovered a box of chocolate covered dinner mints in our pantry. I think we were given them for Christmas and they were forgotten about. This simple box of confectionary tipped out a whole sweet shop of memories: my great Uncle always bought us these mints for Christmas, one box each. It seemed so grown up to have my OWN box of chocolates. As a small child I hoarded the tiny black paper envelopes the mints came in and stored things in them, and the peppermint oil tang transferred itself from the black paper to whatever was kept there. Occasionally, some of the syrupy mint confection had escaped into the bottom of the mint packet, so whatever was stored there got stuck and sticky. This occasionally produced tears. The mints were made in my home town, a city of chocolate factories and thousands of workers who rode home on their bicycles every night at 4pm when the shifts changed. Bicycles in my home town smelled of chocolate, orange oil, peppermint oil and fruit pastilles.

It's good to be back and recalling from un-dusted and untidy bits of my brain. There may be more reminiscences to share.