I don’t know exactly where it’s all coming from…(maybe the space for dreaming that I have been allowing myself recently)…but I’ve been re-struck by some beautiful memories of my childhood of late.
As a young adult I thought I grew up in a perfect family. But then, with the loss of my beautiful Dad, I removed my rose tinted glasses and saw a few chips. Apparently there is no such thing as a perfect family. I found this hard to accept and spent years trying to understand and accept my, our, weaknesses.
But now, I’m experiencing the joy of slipping the rose tinted glasses back on.
And finding again in myself those moments of absolute child.
The hours in the garden concocting stews from petals, mud and greenery. Was anyone there with me? Watching me? I haven’t got a clue. I was busy.
The pine forest across the road was a place of adventure for myself and for my brothers.
Slip and slide.
The yearly trips to the coast – bush walks, swimming, board games. Shell collecting. Possum watching.
Cards with Marnie.
Treasure hunts with cousins.
The willow tree.
Dolls. Dolls. Dolls.
The dresses hand made by Marnie.
Marnie and Poppy’s garden. The cubby house Poppy tailor made out of a leafy bush.
Poppy’s garage. Full of mystery and history. The scent of paper and type writer ink.
Nana’s suitcase of dolls.
Marnie’s dressing table…the black and white photos, the antique perfume bottles, the jewels.
Nana’s wardrobe. The textures, colours, scents.
Switzerland. We went on weekend bike rides as a family. On evening walks to say “bonjour” to the cows. Colouring in unicorn pictures on the balcony while Mum sketched the landscape ahead.
Dinners as a family outside. Snow men. Ski trips. Hikes.
Zoro. I really was Zoro.
My brothers have always played a big part in shaping me. They are very different to each other and I always looked to find the perfect balance of their strengths.
They loved me unconditionally, played with me, protected me.
Pets too. Wow. Pets are such a lifeline for a child. They listen, they cuddle, they understand.
And nature. It frees a child’s wild. It invigorates their dreams, inspires ideas and builds boldness.
Mother Nature. She holds you and loves you unconditionally.
I had all of this. Good brothers, a big backyard to play in, time to explore, pets to love. Real friends, imaginary ones. Mother Nature embracing me. Environments to roam. I even remember having the dog from ‘The Never Ending Story’ with me, everywhere I went.
And don’t forget. I was Zoro. The Zoro.
There are so many aspects of these childhood treasures that I long to offer my son.
We, as adults, seem to have an innate desire to give the best of our childhoods to our children…or is it for ourselves to relive the best?…or is it that we never should have stopped the best from happening by getting overwhelmed by the more serious aspects of adulthood?
I will never forget watching my 40 year old brother drag out the ‘slip and slide’ to share the joy with his 4 year old son.
My son, the dog and our back yard, though tiny, is a place where dreams are made.
Cloud watch, moon search, bee listen, petal analyse, mud make, dig-dig, seed plant, growth see, ant observe, bird watch, sit still and breathe type dreams. Or pull out weeds and sweat, sort and shake off type dreams.
And right now, I’m obsessed with fabric in the garden.
My heart glows at the simple sight of pretty fabric blowing in the wind. Or strung up over us in tent like fashion. If you can’t find me. I’m lost in meters of sari as I try and pin it to the fence, the roof, a tree so that little one and I can delight in it’s above-us-ness.
It feels so good to play again.
To obsess over such a simple, odd, pretty thing.
I hope little one is watching me and giving himself permission to do the same, forever.
Just as I am watching him and giving myself permission to do what he does best, now.
Play passionately, intensely, daily.
Hello my little child.