Why is it that to so many new beginnings are so terribly painful, when by their very nature, they promise so much joy? Is it, I wonder, because before we can say hello, we have to say goodbye?
My Mum and Dad are moving house. After twenty five years they find themselves up to their eyeballs in suitcases packed tight with all our yesterdays, emptying a loft bloated with the flotsam and jetsam of our childhoods, and packing into
I am excited for them! In my mind there is no room for sadness or regret for what amounts to bricks and mortar… though it has in the past few weeks become astonishingly clear that packing up our family history is a telling old business, and that the way we view what matters differs hugely from person to person, even in a family as tightly knit as ours…
Whereas Helen wants to keep every little scrap of paper she ever wrote on, every
For Mum all her memories are written on the walls of the house she is leaving. But it isn’t true is it? Memories don’t paper walls. They decorate our hearts. And wherever my Mum’s heart is, mine is sure to follow.