My first piece with Sunday Scribblings was on October 3rd 2009 and only
my third ever post as a blogger. I had found a home and my first piece was
called “The First Kiss.”
This is my 204th offering to this prompt site and I am
reluctant and sad to let go.
So perhaps it is fitting to write a piece which echoes this sentiment.
I received a phone message many
years ago not long after I became married that my grandmother; my father’s
mother had died.
So driving the few miles up to
her home where she had lived all my life I paid my last respects. She still lay
in the bed she used in the ground floor living room and her daughters were
there waiting for the undertaker.
We had when I was much younger
lived three doors down the street. When, at five I started school, World War 2
had started and thinking that I had learned enough on the first day I refused
to go on the second. So in order to get my older brother to school on time I
was dumped on “Granny” for the day. I think she was quite pleased as I know now
being a granddad myself many times over, forming a bond with a little one is a
privilege as well as a treat. It makes you feel younger and important again
even though lots of explaining is necessary; little fingers touch the creases
in your face and their games are often played with rules you had quite
So that was what I remembered as
I was taken to her bed by my aunts. My own long lost childhood came back yet I was
then unaware of having children or grandchildren of my own. I looked at her
peaceful face and automatically bent over to kiss her goodbye. I said goodbye
to a part of me and it was one more step in making me a complete person. I
turned and saw that both aunts were wiping away their tears.
I have returned to that street a
number of times. It draws me back like a sirens call to the land where the
building blocks that made me were put together.