Learning To Walk Again

I built a bookcase today. I was tempted to ring him, ask him to do it and then I thought, why don’t I just give it a go. I used to make furniture years ago before he came along and started telling me I couldn’t so I did and it turned out perfectly. It fits like a glove in my little shabby chic den and after I’d spent the evening unpacking boxes and putting all my bits and pieces into place it looks perfect. There’s a little piece of me on every shelf and I love it.

A memory box that contains an envelope marked with my name, inside are my old school reports. Reading them back to the children made me laugh out loud. I went from ‘quiet and in need of performing more oral work‘  to ‘missing lessons & messing around‘ to ‘getting my head down and doing ok, always could have done better. Good imagination, great memory, procrastinates but produces right at the last minute. Friendly, caring, encourages others to mess around.‘ Twenty years later, fundamentally, I don’t think I’ve changed at all.

My photo albums contain twenty-two years of old memories, of my Nan, Granddad, auntie, Mum, Dad, sisters and then children and nieces and nephews but most of all, of an awful lot of things that make me smile with fond and happy thoughts.

Home magazines, a collection I’ve been building up for the past few years, hoping to gain inspiration, yearning to put it all to use but never being able to as he wouldn’t allow it in one way or another. Finally, the magazines are going to get used, but somehow I think I’m going to manage okay without them.

Family tree information cards, one of the most precious things I possess. Hundreds and hundreds of cards full of information on my ancestors and the lives they led, the loves they had and the tears they cried, all to be passed down to my children.

My spiritual books which were once a very big part of my life, redundant for the past seven years as ‘people that believe in that are mad‘. How silly of me to believe him. I’m not ready to start picking them up again yet but hopefully one day I will again.

Chick lit and chick flick, neither I can live without. A good romance in whatever medium is a must, it makes me feel alive and fills my soul with hope.

My very small CD collection, but all of it I love, from Beyonce to Christmas Hits; Queen to S Club 7. Guaranteed to cheer me up when I need it most.

Annie’s books just waiting to be picked out and read as we snuggle on the sofa overlooking the changing seasons of our garden.

My music books, the ones that I would sing to every single day without fail until four years ago when he and I moved in together. I’ve probably picked them up half a dozen times since. My guitar needs restringing, my voice retraining and I need to buy a new keyboard but in time, I will use my books again.

Finally, my work files. My newest venture. Files with clients’ details, with contracts, ideas and more. I hope I can put my heart fully into my work and I hope my work will pour with love bringing many happy clients.

When I picked up my toolkit this morning to make up these pieces of wood, never did I think it would be so cathartic but its been like opening a lovely box of surprises from the past, of welcoming back old friends. I’ve missed them all.

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