First seen over on Making it up…

I am from Rainbow, from Bod and Jackanory, from Jamie and his magic torch. I am from sherbet fountains, chalky lollies, jelly tots. I am from Marathons not Snickers, Opal Fruits not Starbursts. I am from a Mars a day helps you work, rest and play.

I am from Karen Carpenter singing Yesterday Once More, from Abba on Top of the Pops, from steak for dinner every Saturday night, from a teasmade that was never used.

I am from the ‘Big House – the biggest in class’ I am from big rooms, heavy doors, dark corners. I am from those doors slamming with raised voices behind them. I am from the van dropping me and my brother off to school, sitting nestled in the back among paint tins and brushes, dustsheets and turps, putty and varnish. I am from the smell of of a decorators overalls.

I am from the dandelion clocks which you blew to tell the time, 1 o’clock, 2 o’clock, 3 o’clock, 4. I am from clover you sucked for the ‘honey’. I am from the bramble berries picked from the alleyways, staining my fingers with deep purples and reds.

I’m from filling pages and pages of paper with drawings, pictures of friends that I wished that I had. I am from writing and writing and writing, stories and poems, diaries with emotions spilling from the pages, I am from finding words in song lyrics to express exactly what I was feeling. Sitting with my tape played pressing stop and play after every line, writing them down and learning them by heart.

I am from imagining the year 2000 and being unable to imagine myself at 26, wondering if I might possibly be married, where I would be and if by then I would feel grown up and have all the answers.

I am from sad Sundays, from long endless summers. I am from sitting on a stool in my Grandmothers flower shop, scented with cut flowers, eating marmite on toast, fingers itching to touch the green oasis and crumble it to dust. I am from knowing that in my Daddy’s arms I am safe and nothing can harm me. I am a Davies, I’m from Sandra and David, big sister, small daughter.

From ‘I’m sick of shouting’. From trying to sleep before the shouting began, from catching sight of myself, a small figure in a nightie printed with a cartoon dog in the mirror, as I shouted at my parents late at night to stop rowing. From knowing my life would be different from theirs.

I am from churches for Christenings, for Weddings. From never believing there was Anyone there. From singing pop songs inside my head while the rest of the school assembly recited Our Father… so my mind wouldn’t even form the words.

I’m from Sussex, from south downs and chalky beaches, from parents from North Wales and Sussex herself. I’m from seeing the seasons changing reflected in the sea, murky grey, muddy green to the clearest of blues.

I’m from being one of a class with six girls called Nicola, being the only ‘ginge’ in the year. I’m from being part of the choir but never singing alone. I’m from never having a guaranteed friend to sit next to, being paired up with the other oddball when working in pairs for Science.

From the brother who worked his way through the textbook of challenges offspring could test their parent with, from being ‘no trouble ’til she reached 17′. I’m from the cousin who incited us to mischief, from making potions with every perfume and lotion in the bathroom in the toothbrush mug.

I am from six heavy photo albums, charting my early years. With a glamorous woman always in full make up, not the mother I remember at all. I am from school photos, the same image in all sizes. I’m from a gap in records of what I once looked like until it starts over again with me as an adult.