I was just reading a blog by MandyCollinsWriter.
Her words reflect something I’ve been thinking on the subject of for quite some time now. Funny isn’t it? How we go round with all these thoughts and unsaid warm recollections for so long, without ever putting them into written words and preserving that train of thought forever.
There are so many that come to mind, when I think about my childhood and my ongoing relationship with my parents, each of them now in their late 70s. One of my earliest warm memories of my Dad, was when I must have been 3 or 4 years old and curled up on the back seat of our Morris Minor, where I’d made a birds nest out of the red fluffy lining of my Dad’s coat and I thought I was a chicken! I just remember having an intense sense of being protected back then.