In the kitchen. White doors but instead of white handles, 1980's signature cheerful red and cheap MFI design. This was the only cupboard you could not manage to open, empty, rearrange or mess up because we kept a piece of string tied on the handles. A house we lived in for five years with the cupboard-you-could-not-open, filled with cherished events of which He is the author.
We were three when we moved in and five when we left. Two more precious lives erupted onto the
scene and into our story in those years.
Your not so little brother very nearly made his way into the world, next
to that cupboard-you-could-not-open. The
fact that his shoulder got stuck during the journey towards birth probably
prevented another kind of red spilling all over the kitchen floor that morning.
Throughout daylight hours your brother required almost non-stop
feeding and provided golden opportunities for you to perfect your mayhem-creating
skills while I was not looking. When the Health Visitor called, you were
surreptitiously sticking all the clean new toilet rolls down the toilet and as
she left you twinkled your ‘it wasn’t me’ blue eyes at her. You managed to
break several fridge locks resulting in uncooked omelettes on the kitchen floor
on more than a few mornings. A cursory
rubber-gloved hand down a blocked drain indicated that you had been posting
most of our teaspoons and a large amount of sand from the sandpit down the chute,
over a period of time.
In flitting between the cupboard-you-could-not-open, cooking
tea, with your brother in his near permanent place on my hip at this time of
day, I managed to melt a cake box on top of the grill. The birthday cake inside was unharmed, but
the box was a sorry molten plastic mess, which took forever to scrape off the
cooker.
By the time your sister arrived just 21 months after your
brother you two boys played together more and gradually the cupboard-you-could-not-open
became less important to you. It was also safe to start leaving the string off
the handles, since the cupboard-you-could-not-open never held the same
fascination for your younger siblings.
Your sister almost from the moment she could sit up became a
ringside participator in your games on the red carpets. Red carpets in two rooms that meant pink
knees on almost every garment of crawling infants. There was that Sunday night when she first
giggled from her bouncy chair during the madness of trying to bath three children
in oily eczema-treating gunk and put them to bed without Dad in the house. A sweet glockenspiel tinkle chiming in over
usual fraught thoughts and a pulling back into the moment to participate in
these messy times, not just endure them.
So you see this house with the cupboard-you-could-not-open holds
precious memories I never, ever want to forget.
Hi Jo
ReplyDeleteWhat an interesting post on what seems to me on a memorable childhood. Thank you!
Much love
Mia
I wish I had recorded it at the time!
DeleteThanks for stopping by Mia
Aw, this is lovely.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading Liz
DeleteWhat was in the cupboard? (I'm guessing cleaning products?) Beautiful children!
ReplyDeleteI think it was mainly grocery items, can't remember where the cleaning stuff was. It's a while ago, the children are now in their 20's
DeleteThanks for reading Brandee
Cute pic! I got all nostalgic at the memory of MFI, and I loved the juxtaposition of the mention of red handles in the first paragraph with the potential of blood in the second. Thanks for playing! :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks for popping in love. Seemed like a safe place to make a start!
DeleteJo :-)
I love this post - it makes me smile in recognition of true family life and love. Thank you for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteYou're very welcome, thanks for dropping in x
Delete