When we were good…
The long oak coffee table that was the living room centre piece in my ‘old’ life is now back with me where it belongs. The cluttered, colourful flat we lived in as a family of three, before the triplets, before the breakup and before that little blip called cancer is being sold and well, it really does feel like the end of a pretty monumental era. Living in a rented house for the last two years means I haven’t really made my mark on the place I now call home. Moving in with the babies, Jake and experiencing the start of what is affectionately known as ‘chemo brain’ – the last thing on my mind was interiors and decor. A few snazzy cushions and some twinkly lights is about as far as I’ve gone in the style stakes and it shows…
So tonight my beloved table was brought to the house and positioned perfectly by the sofa and TV. I dimmed the lights, placed a fat candle in the middle of it and sat down. An unexpected tidal wave of nostalgia, sentiment and sadness washed over me and it was a little overwhelming. Memories poured in thick and fast and what took me by surprise was that the majority of them were happy ones. It’s so much easier just to think of how bad things got. A lot less painful to only remember the terrible times. But there were good times too. Lots of them.
When I was Ella’s age my mum used to read nursery rhymes aloud to me and the one I never tired of hearing was about the little girl with the curl –
There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.
When we were good we were very good indeed, but when we were bad it was horrid.
I’m pleased to have my wooden table back. Now I just need to find a wooden box to put these mixed up thoughts in…
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