I remember it clearly: driving slowly uphill to our new home on Bramble Walk road. The snow was falling thick around us and Dad was nervous about the 1974 Mark II Ford slipping on the icy road. The snowflakes splashed against the windows, smearing a view of white meadows and snow laden trees.
I was four years old and we were moving from our temporary home with our paternal grandmother to a bungalow on the edge of Epsom. Epsom Common. A phrase that belied its countryside appearance with open meadows bordered by a tangled wood. This was the first time I remember seeing snow, so much snow whirling around. A true blizzard. The fairy tale woods were coated; a Narnia of endless white to explore. We stayed in the car while Dad unlocked the front door and made sure the path was safe. I don’t remember any of the first days of moving in except snapshots of the family legends: panic at the frozen pipes and using large sheets of cardboard to shovel the snow off the path. Our new, modest home sat perched a few metres higher than the south facing meadow, which resulted in an epic windswept drift of snow higher than my brother and I. Imagine the fun we had diving in and out of the snow, sledding down the tiny incline - a hill to us; building vast snow bases and having snowball fights with relieved parents. Bramble Walk inactive, the cars are stuck to the spot and piled high with snow. The houses were still, the bare trees silent with their stationary birds. What a welcome to the home for the rest of my childhood. As an adult, every time I see giddy flurries of snow drifting past the window - white puffs swirling through orange lamp light and quietly whitening the city - seconds snap back decades. My mind blurred by the busy greyness of adulthood is cast back to childhood, this snowy beginning. A smile nudges the adult aside, reminds me that happiness is found in these memories. Going to sleep looking at the drifting snow, you can hear Peter Pan tapping at the window.
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AuthorA poetic-essay style blog with a limit of 365 words. 365 like the days of the year - my name being one of those days! Archives
March 2020
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