I was born in the year of the ox; Sun sign Aquarius, moon sign Virgo with Gemini ascendant.
I was a ‘good’ baby. Third child, although the baby before me didn’t get to breathe oxygen and walk this earth. They were destined for the heavens. 🧡
My sister, I’ll call her J, was a happy mass of big curls and laughter, in the photos anyway. Almost 3 years older than me; always looking up to her. My big sister 🧡
We lived in a bungalow (no one else I knew lived in a bungalow – I always liked being unique); it was my grandparents home, since the war. A cow field behind, farmyard, and a country lane (great for picking blackberries) and the faint hum of cars on the distant motorway. Two acres of beautifully manicured gardens; tall evergreens shielding us from the road, and black iron gates at the top of the long gravel drive. Always having to run up the drive, or get out of the car, to open and close those gates. An abundance of vegetables and fruit; a greenhouse with a grapevine and another one, glass and white painted wood, where cucumbers grew. A large oak tree, tales of peacocks on the front lawn. Before my time.
I don’t really remember my grandma Grace. I have a couple of old photos – I’m an infant, black baby hair, she’s frail. Nothing that gives away any clues to her true nature. Only hearsay.
I remember grandpa though. He called me Bobo. I was his companion; He was my person, my sunshine. I felt safe and loved. I would help him in the garden. An Imperial mint from the box under the workbench in the greenhouse on the lawn; Our little secret. 🧡
Grandma died of encephalitis or some such brain disease. My father told the story of the community nurse coming and administering a large dose of morphine. They would probably call it Euthanasia now but back then it was a kindness. I have the ghost of a memory of grandma (old, feeble, failing) sat near the kitchen table, possibly crumpled in to a wheelchair, and the nurse being present. I’m knee-height, observing. Memory or imagination? I’m not sure. I was still a toddler when she passed away.
My earliest, clear, date-able memory is being in the doctor’s office with mum – a prenatal check up. I am 2 years and 10 months old. I can vividly recall a red tartan blanket and mums big belly – my baby sister.
I am at home with mum. It’s morning and dad is walking J to school. It was a good 20 or 30 minute walk; balancing on the grass verges between the road and the ditch or walking, single-file, in the dangerous main road. Times-tables drilled in to us. Passed the swings and then to quieter road with pavement. I think he was too cheap to drive.
It is the day that my little sister, T, is born so I have an unquestionable time marker. mum is on the phone talking to the midwife. I’m scared to be alone with her. Something is not right; I don’t understand. I’m watching her from the dining room table, behind the chair. I’m watching the front through the glass panes in the door, wishing for a car to come down the drive. Am I holding my breath? I don’t know what’s happening; I’m afraid. help.
The story goes that dad & the midwife both arrived and they shooed me off to my bedroom at the rear of the house, down the corridor from the parents room where mum gave birth to my sister. And forgot about me. So funny.
🌻
To The Core 