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.