My cherished item

If your home were sinking,what would you be desperate to save? Actually,why would a house ever sink? Does that ever happen? Probably not. Ok,so,if your home were,um,going up in flames,what would you rush in to save?

I’ve been pondering what my most cherished item is in this lovely place I call home. I’ve been filing through them in my mind. My wedding album? Or my kids scan photos? Or the letters that my late Dad wrote me? My Mum’s memoirs? That crazy expensive funky magnetic notice board that I just treated myself to,pooling all my birthday and Christmas money so I could afford it?

But I can’t think of one single item,a thing,that means that much to me. When it comes to material objects I admit to being a little confused,a tad schizoprephnic.

I believe that ‘things’don’t make you happy,they don’t make you who you are,they shouldn’t be relied on. But….well,they are lovely aren’t they? That exciting heart skipping feeling you get when you get something new and shiny/silky/fluffy. Although it’s only sometimes fleeting,it’s a nice feeling nonetheless. Shallow,yes. Superficial,yes. But oh so nice.

So,what would it be?

It’s my study wall. The wall that’s full of photos.

It was my project when I was on maternity leave waiting for Baby P’s arrival. Instead of using the time that Miss L was at nursery to rest up,I dragged my tired,fed up,heavy ass to IKEA and spent a large chunk of my last proper wage on photo frames. With the obligatory napkins and tea lights,natch. It’d been something that I’d wanted to do for ages,I suppose I must have seen the idea in some weekend magazine,a wall filled entirely with photos. Photos that painted a picture of that family and the life they led,and had lived.

I racked my brains for my most favourite photos in the world,hunted for negatives. Negatives,remember them? Holding them up,always upside down,squinting,scribbling down the number,hoping it was the right one,but god they all looked the same.

I sat on our cold playroom floor until my hips ached,spread them all out in front of me,arranging them. I figured soon enough,with new baby and a toddler to cope with,I’d have no time or energy to do anything for myself. I was determined to finish this one project.

It’s not a roll call for my favourite people,there are gaps in that,but they stretch the different chapters of my life so far,give a good representation of our story so far.

My Nan in Egypt during the war where she first met her ‘Adonis’,my Grandad. Her scribbles are on on the back of the photo.

My lovely boy and I,jumping over sand dunes on our honeymoon on the Isle of Mull,flying our kite.

The Witches trip to NYC,pre the little children,a silver fronted diner and a yellow taxi cab.

My Mum,Christmas Day 1974. Me,days old in her arms,my big sister looking on curious. Drowning in an orange,brown and mustard interior.

Two black and white photos,almost identical. Teeny tiny newborns in the arms of their proud smiling Daddy.

The boy’s Granda,back in his day,suited and looking rather sharp walking down a Belfast street.

My best friend and our gorgeous families at the beach,all stripes,wellies and cheesy smiles.

I hold the girls up and we talk through each of the photos together. Miss L asking ‘Who’s that?’and then answering before me.

She never got to meet my Dad so the black and white photo of him as a brooding,Chelsea boot wearing,journalist student will forever be the snapshot of what he was like in her eyes. ‘Your Dad’s dead isn’t he Mummy? Does that make you sad? Does it?’Eh,well,yeah,thanks for that.

She asks where she was on our wedding day. And sometimes I have to think about that myself before answering;there was a time when they weren’t in my life wasn’t there? She looks at the photo of her Daddy and his two friends,sweaty,arms round each other open mouthed shouting out ‘Sweet Caroline’with all their hearts. Neil wrote that just for me you know.

I don’t spend a huge amount of time in that room,it’s not the living room that I sit in every night to watch telly. But I see it every time I come in the front door,my wall,and something different catches my eye every time. When someone comes to the house for the first time I want to show them,I’m rather proud of it.

*********************************************************************************************************************

Here are the other entries in this carnival:

Making It Up gives us her favourite cherished items.

The Diary of a Frugal Family shares her family’s most Special Things.

Make Do Mum writes about a precious item in Tick tock tick tock.

Cheeky Wipes gives us her cherished item in Tables Aren’t Just For Eating At….

Red Ted Art tells us about her DIY Hobby Horse.

Snipsnaphappy tells us about her cherished item in My Granny’s needle.

I Need Curtains for the Window inside my Head writes about the pieces of jewellery that mean the most to her.

Tiddlyompompom tells us about Adopted Ted.

Freckles Family shares A treasured possession.

Mymumdom posts about A Small Boy’s Treasure.

Notes From Home posts about her cherished reclaimed box.

Photo credit –me with a little help from Picnik