Is it old age that has the past rushing in like a raging river?
Lost moments remembered.
The way my legs felt after taking off my roller skates, they were still there, like a phantom limb, my dad said.
The way my backside ached, playing on my bike all day. No trouble leaving the front door open, people walk in any time of the day.
Kettle always on the boil, no worries as to the lateness of the hour.
We were safe playing out after dark. That’s when I took notice of the stars.
A penny would buy a bag of broken biscuits, keep me going until teatime.
Or a bag of chips if you remembered to bring old newspapers.
Running errands for the neighbours meant I always had money to spend.
Mum gave me a shilling a week pocket money, with that I could go swimming, buy a bag of chips after.
Walking home with hot chips in my hand wrapped in newspaper, one of my best memories.
It’s not the same today, they come in polystyrene boxes.
I took my granddaughter swimming. There’s no diving, no jumping, no fun
Just swim up and down. We used to chase each other beneath the water
Pull each other under, who could make the biggest splash is frowned upon now.
Some places had a diving pool only, which feels sterile to me.
That’s the way of things these days, we all walk on tiptoes.
Could be the past should stay behind a dark curtain…
© Anita Dawes 2021