The Littlest Things

Sometimes the littlest things can remind you of your fondest memories, for me it was returning to my home in Hertfordshire that triggered this inner sort of childishness I turn to when I return home.

As I walked the dogs in the field we’ve been wandering through for years, I was drawn to an old tree that had fallen down so long ago even I can’t remember. In the evening walks with the dogs or summer adventures with friends, I once upon a time would climb this tree and swing from its branches. Now in the evening glow of the setting sun it seems almost a ghostly reminder that years have passed and I am no longer a child.
The second event that triggered this wave of fond memories was actually in Suffolk, where me, my mother and my sister rested in a little cafe after an antique shop. As I stirred the sugar in my beautiful tea cup, I thought back to the days when I played with miniature tea sets (But later de-faced them for a gothic art project) but couldn’t actually stand the taste of tea. There it was again, the realisation that I was growing up but was still being continually reminded of the past; almost as if adult life mimicked that of a child.
This post was inspired by Gemma Finch who is working on a beautiful piece of work called Memories, Dreams and Illusions which you can find on the ‘InsiteCU’ Instagram page.

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