Tag: memories

Nostalgia – DP photo challenge

lizaaitken

img_2849

 

 

So many things come to mind when I think of nostalgia.  I’m sentimental and slip back in time at the drop of a hat.  I find it easy to walk back into a scene, reminisce, look around and smell and feel what’s going on.  It’s interesting, as an adult I remember different things, must be my very vivid imagination or things stored in my mind, I didn’t acknowledge the first time around.  Maybe at an age I couldn’t comprehend, didn’t understand or just another false memory!

This is my first go at the Daily Prompt Photo Challenge, I don’t know if it should be a stand alone photo but I had to write a little poem to explain Nostalgia 🙂

 

Nostalgia sleeps upon my bed, he’s slept there many years

Witnessed all the heartbreak, the sadness and the tears

I’d say he’s probably forty five, maybe give a year or two

Those of you who are close to me, he knows your secrets too

My mother helped me make him, as I was seven or eight

I couldn’t do it all by myself, as I had got in such a state

We sewed him up with cotton thread, adding memories

Pink button eyes and matching lips, he was built to please

The velvet is still black as night, he blends in as I sleep

When we made him years ago, we made a guy to keep.

 

Your Smile 

lizaaitken

I saw your smile on the carpet today, I hadn’t seen it before.

I see your smile all over the place, each day I see more and more.

Your smile so wide, on precious lips, I remember it so clear.

Smiling now throughout my days, it’s like you are still near.

*

I saw your hair at a cafe as I passed, I stopped my heart beating fast.

Golden ringlets with a mind of their own, waving at those walking past.

Hair of an angel, not common at all, but the woman was not you.

I had to look close, just to make sure, as she had your bone structure too.

*

I saw your hand on a checkout girl, and another one in the bank.

Hands that helped me all my life, hands I owe so much thanks.

Gentle hands so full of care, with the touch of an angel dear.

I remember holding those hands as you left, the memories still very clear.

*

I chase you down the street sometimes, pass you on the stairs.

See you in a cars traveling out of town, but know your not really there.

Memories etched deeply into my mind,  now jumping out into my days.

I feel like I still have you here in my world, that you’ll travel with me on my way.

*


The Pull of Love

lizaaitken

In a magic moment, I found what it was to love. 

I did not find it in a book or in the skies above.

I found it the memories, the ones that I hold dear.

If only I had know back then, what today is clear.

Love is not so obvious, it takes you by surprise.

Returns as you are unaware, comes back  in disguise.

It creeps up when your sleeping, or in another land

Then finally you feel it’s pull and you understand

Melodies of Life

lizaaitken

IMG_1931

We all have melodies that run throughout our lives.  They remind us of who we are, where we’ve been, love, happiness and disappointments.  I’m a collector of melodies, lover of music and lyrical words but I’ve no musical myself ability whatsoever.

Our recognition of music and tone starts before we are born, we listen from the womb.  I was born into a musical, well, music loving family and I was sung to through my mothers stomach.  My Dad, convinced I was a boy sung ‘My Boy Bill’ to me in his deep voice.   I don’t think he was disappointed, well maybe a little but he had a boy eventually in his third marriage, my mum being his first wife.  Dad used to get up and sing Al Jolson songs in pubs as did my grandad, dad now 78 still sings throughout the day.

I was named, as mentioned before here, after a Judy Garland song ‘Liza, Liza, Skies are Grey’ thus the title of my blog.  I have mum’s Judy Garland scrap book, started when she was just a teenager, it’s very precious to me as she was her number one fan.

So many of my memories are connected with music.  My Grandmother, swinging her skirt around her knees at parties after a few whiskies singing ‘Danny Boy’.  My other Grandmother’s love of the Opera and the poster of Placido Domingo she had taped to her lounge door well into her late 80’s and the stories of her as a poverty struck young woman climbing up into the ‘gods’ to watch the opera.

When I asked my step father after my mother died what song reminded him of her he said ‘The First Time Ever I Saw your Face’ Ewan McColl’s version.   When he died a month later we had a bagpiper play his coffin into church, just as he used to play the boats out of harbour as a young man.  Music brings them back every time I play something that connects us and I play these melodies often.

I was an officiant at a funeral recently, it’s a long story how I got to do it so I won’t go into the in’s and outs and bore you, but they wanted someone who was spiritual but also a vegan which is a bit of an ask.  I wasn’t a trained celebrant but I ticked the other boxes so I agreed to give it a go, no in all honesty, I wanted to do this young man proud.   He had died at 28 of a heart attack, very sad but as I learnt about him from his family I heard what a love he had for life and he loved to sing.  Would you believe he sang at his own funeral, well recordings of his voice for two numbers ‘ Poor Unfortunate Souls’ from the Little Mermaid and ‘Hakuna Matata’ from the Lion King.  He was larger than life in personality and he sung these songs with every bit of his heart and soul.  I have to tell you when these numbers played it was like he opened the chapel door and walked in through it.

That’s what music does, it takes you back, brings back and reconnects us to precious memories.

 

Time

lizaaitken

It’s scaring me now, you’ve been gone so long,

time passing too quickly, it feels very wrong.

I need to wind back the clocks, to remember the days,

as incredibly clear before you went away.

I’m feeling so frightened, that you’ll leave my mind,

with your face disappearing, then you left behind.

I’m trying to hold on to our time here as clear,

the smells and the touch, I’m just needing you near.

I’m remembering now, love and laughter we shared,

please visit in dreams, I don’t want to feel scared.

Please do get in touch, let me know your still here,

then stop time from moving,  it’s nearly two years.

 

 

Remember Me….

lizaaitken

How will I be remembered when I’m gone from this life and only a memory to those who once knew me. This question troubles me because I don’t want to be thought of for my imperfections.

Please don’t remember me because I straightened the sofa cushions after you finished sitting.  Remember the conversation we had while you sat there and that I listened intently to you and that I was interested in what you had to say.  Know that I cared about you, that I loved you dearly and that I was so proud of you along with the relationship we had with each other, whatever that relationship was.

Please don’t recall my perfectionist ways, I never looked for perfection outside of myself, you were always so perfect. To me you were always amazing and I believe you will truly go all the way. The sun shines out of you and exposes your warm spirit, it’s why I wanted to be with you.

Please don’t think about the fact that I couldn’t sing, remember that I kept trying, and it made you laugh and yes sometimes embarrassed you. We laughed, I laughed and you all laughed with me and sometimes you sang too – I know you revelled in my happiness in those moments as I did yours.

Please don’t think of me as a housewife either, because when I tidied up around you or swept the crumbs from the table while you ate, it was because I wanted to be near you.  I wanted to blend with your energies, feel you and care for you.

Please don’t think about my materialist ways, my love of handbags and shoes and need to bring home a shopping bag each trip out. I was confused, in search of beauty, but nothing really ever meant as much as you do to me.

Please remember that we travelled together in each others dreams, we broke through the universe together and anything was possible. Those frightening ones where we worried for each other turned out okay too, didn’t they, we lived another day here together.

Please remember me as a mother, a friend, listener, cook, artist and a lover of life -just remember that our pathways crossed whoever you are. That we complimented each other for a short while here, and that we knew each other was a gift.

Please think of me with a smile on your face and remember that I will always think of you and connect with you in love.

Treasure in a coffin.

lizaaitken

A coffin would usually measure about 84 inches in length and be 28 inches wide so with you inside it, however slender you are, there won’t be an awful lot of room for treasure.

The word coffin derives from the old French word cofin, meaning basket or cradle. It seams funny and a little strange to me that we arrive and leave in the same vehicles. I’m wondering if it because each time we travel we are being born in one place and saying goodbye to another.

Although any box used for the dead is a coffin, the word casket is also widely used. It’s interesting that a casket was originally a box for jewelry. I think perhaps we are the jewels in this case and our value is measured by our deeds on earth.

I think what I’m getting at here, you have to stay with me, as I write to formulate my thoughts. Anyway what I’m saying is that we can’t really take anything with us, it will not stay along for the ride. We won’t wake up in the hereafter with the wealth we have amassed on earth any more than a baby is born with a healthy bank account and pots of gold.

So why do we spend our lives building our individual empires, with dreams of wealth being some of the most prominent. Why do we pray for a lottery win over health and happiness and why do we find it so hard to let go of material possessions when there will come a day we have no other option.

I’m as guilty as the rest, I’m a magpie, and I like beautiful things around me. I like things to shine, I polish taps and shine sinks. I bought my car as the tan leather seats went with my handbags. I weigh more on the bathroom scales than I actually should, because of the silver jewelry I never take off. I’m working on this and I will continue working, as I know the treasures we have on earth are nothing more than fool’s gold.

If we could only see each other by looking at the beauty of each individual soul without the material possessions or lack of possessions. I think we would see a completely different picture. We would truly see each other for who we really are by what we give out and not be swayed by falseness. I wonder what colours I give out, I hope they say something good about me.

Lately I have being seeing the natural beauty in nature, the flowers and the colours, the sounds and the smells. This is new for me, I’m a town girl and always busy and on the go. I’m giving myself more time now, I have slowed down, I’m watching and waiting.

I am wealthy in friends and loved ones, I have beautiful people around me but I won’t be taking them with me, nor would they want to come. I know I will die with the people I love around me but that will be as far as they go. I travel alone and the only treasure I want with me is the love of those I hold dear. I know with all certainty that the only treasures I will count as I leave this place are the people I love.

I’m thinking about this today and I’m going to keep thinking about it because I don’t want to forget. The wealth I have now and any wealth I have in the future will be measured in any kindness and love I’m able to give out. The treasure I will take with me will be those memories and achievements. I think they will fit as they will be sewn into my spirit and travel with me.

What will you fit in your coffin with you when they carry you out of this lifetime?

Bluebell Woods

lizaaitken

It’s beautiful here in the woods, just like I remember. I’m walking along the path through the trees. I have to watch for the bumps in the path where the roots of the trees are lifting the earth, but it’s just wonderful. I feel privileged to be here in this very special place. If I look ahead I can see the light shining at the end of the trees, it’s probably where the sunlight hits the earth but it looks almost mystical from here where I stand.

Bluebells cover the ground all around for as far as I can see, a carpet of purple and blue. To my left I see a couple of figures collecting the flowers, when I look closer I realise I know them, I am the child, the other person my grandmother. I remember how happy the child is, how happy they both are, how special that day was. I have stored it perfectly in my memory all these years to return and visit it again today. I hear my other self giggle and wonder where that childhood innocence went. I believe today I must have reclaimed it as I managed to get here even if only in my sleep.

The trees that line the path bend gently in the breeze as if to greet me, leaves cover the path around the roots of the trees. Although discarded now at the end of their days they are still part of the trees that bore them and still remain part of the scene. They will eventually rot and feed the trees through the earth, the cycle of life.

I walk away from the couple, away from myself and away from the path to the left of the scene, towards what looks like a gentle hue in the distance. Where, it would seem, the sunlight has not discovered yet today. It looks peaceful and magical. There is a mist above the bluebells like early dawn and if I look really close I can see tiny specks like shimmering dust. I sit in this place for a while, I feel protected and safe, I think about my life.

I know I’m dreaming but also know I’m in control, I can create here, I can direct the outcome. I consider going over to the child and helping her collect bluebells, tell her she will remember the day forever. I could advise her on her future, tell her the pitfalls out there for her but I won’t because she needs to learn for herself, like me. I just watch contentedly, as she lives her special day, from the background.

I know I can’t stay but it feels so good to be here, I must go but I want to keep something from today. I look down to the floor of the woods to see what I can find, a stone catches my eye nestled in the soft grass. I pick it up and hold it in the centre of my palm to have a good look. The stone is green and it shimmers slightly, if I look closely it seems I can see inside, there are patterns beneath the surface that tell a story. I will take the stone home to remember my journey here. I slip it into my pocket, take one last look at the child with her grandmother and close my eyes.

I’m back in my bedroom, the birds are whistling in the sunshine and I can hear the engine of the school bus in the distance. It draws closer and stops outside to let my daughter off. She runs up the path with her arms behind her back, hiding something. When she reaches the porch where I’m waiting to greet her she produces a bunch of bluebells she has collected today on a nature walk. I hold her tight for a moment and kiss her tiny face in gratitude. We go into the house together to put the flowers in water. We put them on display on the window ledge, just next to the shiny green stone.

Flat for Sale

lizaaitken

Jack, the guy from the estate agents, said there would be no problem selling my flat. In fact he had people on his books that already wanted to view it, they were interested in my flat right now. He wanted to know what he could do to stop the other estate agents coming to give a valuation, when he could sell it today.

My home really is wonderful, I have always loved this place. I don’t really want to go but circumstances now mean I must. An upstairs flat doesn’t work anymore, I need to be downstairs now and that will mean leaving Brighton. It makes me sad to leave but I’m happy to have been here.

Jack walked around my flat with his pad and measuring tool and I accompanied him. The main room he said was great, good size and well presented. I wanted to tell him about the parties, the music and dancing that had taken place over the years. How we have laughed till we cried on many occasion in that room. How wooden spoons make fantastic microphones and in here anyone can sing. I thought he should know that I have cooked for and fed the people I love in the main room. My lounge has been checked into a few times on facebook and the food and atmosphere are said to be amazing. I didn’t share this with Jack but I do think it adds to the value.

Lovely big windows, lots of light he said. Yes, I thought, the sun streams in lighting up the room and everyone in here; it is always summer in this room. There is nothing I like better than sitting by those windows in the morning with my coffee; it is where I like to think. The flowers in the window box lean into the room to join me and bring summer indoors.

The bedroom is a good size, huge window. I didn’t mention to Jack that I lie in bed looking up at the sky every day. I set the alarm early, just to lie there. I can’t just jump out of bed, not when I have to plan the day while I’m looking up at the big blue sky from that window. At night I count the stars that shine over the city from the window and the light it lets in casts comfortable and safe shadows around the room.

Jack said he liked the wooden floorboards, a good feature he said. Great for dancing, but we do have to think about Jonathan downstairs if it is late. That is apart from the time he was dancing with us, then we didn’t care.

My neighbours are just fantastic; I’m so lucky to have them. Jonathan is a homeopath who always understands my ailments and humour. You can see his brass plaque just beside the main doorway downstairs. He makes hair products too; they are standing on the shiny glass shelf in my bathroom. If you look out of that big window again, you will see his garden, it’s beautiful all year round, it must be where he gets his inspiration.

The house next door is the vicarage, so no problems there. Robert, the vicar, is lovely, we have shared a few glasses of wine and his stories are hilarious. It is a lovely road, full of great people. What’s more near the centre of the city it’s amazingly quiet.

Before you go, Jack, did I mention the planning permission to extend into the loft. You think that’s a good selling point. No I didn’t ever get around to it, my loft is full of boxed memories.

You’re a great sales man Jack, you remind me of my granddad and he could sell anything, same patter, same charm. Thing is Jack, you don’t have all the information. The best things about this flat are the memories in the walls, the smiles that have been reflected in the glass, the happiness and the love. I think this has always been a happy home and I think anyone that lives here will get that.

Does love and happiness sell Jack, will you tell the prospective purchasers about the love. I think they need to know that it’s a wonderful home, that when the door closes behind you there is nothing quite like it.

You see, when people buy a home in Brighton they buy into a lifestyle. But what makes that even better is the home you live that lifestyle from. This home, my home, has great vibes. I think that all the people that have ever lived here have been blessed and the happiness that has been shared in the flat will fill the walls for years to come.

Time Machine

lizaaitken

Image

There is a time machine for sale in the local junk store and I’m thinking of buying it.  There is a disclaimer taped to the top that advises the machine should be used for display purposes only and that any time travel is at the owner’s risk.   I wonder about this, I’m buying it to travel back in time so it needs to work.

I want to go to a few different places but I need to get back from each of them to move on to the next.  Or maybe I will go from one to another and come back to today when I’ve had my fill.   Whichever way I choose to go I want to be certain I can come home.

I have some things I want to say, things I should have said first time around.  I want to let a few people know they are special, that they touched my life.  I realise I can’t make any huge changes, I need to get back to now but the little things I want to do and say won’t change the course of history.

I’m going to become a time traveler, I wonder if it will change me, will I still be the same person on my return.  I will admit, I don’t know an awful lot about time travel, science has never been one of my strengths.   I’ve watched a lot of Dr Who and loved The Matrix, so hopefully I will be fine.

I won’t be visiting family, the people who shaped me, that could change things forever.  Anyway they are here today and the ones that are not know how much they meant to me.  The people I’m visiting might not even remember the events I do, but I want to tell them what they meant to me.

I want to go back to Mr. Khan’s history classroom.  That week when I was leaving school and he kept me behind.  I remember he said to me that I should use him for a reference if I needed one for a job.  He told me that many of the teachers had little time for me and probably wouldn’t bother.  He said he saw something in me, to give his name.  When I was in that job, because of his glowing reference I wished I had said thank you that day.  I probably did, I had manners even then, but I want to be able to go back and say thank you with feeling.  I want to go back to that room and tell him I did well, I did eventually get my head down to study and that I have always remembered him.

I would like to be sitting on the bench with Mr. Davis when he dies, I don’t want him to be alone.  I want to tell him he made me happy, he made me laugh as a teenager and how sad I was that he was alone in the world.  I want to tell him I asked my mum to pray for him the night he died and that he was added to her prayer list.  Thing is with mum, once you’re on there you don’t leave so she has being praying for Mr. Davis for thirty odd years.  I think Mr. Davis would like to know that.

I want to go back to the girl we teased and called flee bags.  I want to tell her I knew she didn’t have flees, I was being a sheep.  I want to ask her if she would like to play with me and be my friend.  But most of all I want to say sorry for not stopping the bullies.  I hear she is happily married with a family.  My mum says she is a lovely girl, who stopped and gave her a hug last time she saw her.  I want to thank her for that.

I would like to smile and say thank you to my husband the day he said he was leaving.  Tell him it was the right decision, that I’m not as sad as I think that day and that my life has been just great.  I would like to suggest we forget the arguments to come, lets not have them.  Because in twenty years when we meet again we will realise we have grown into totally different people.  Some things really are good for as long as they last.

I don’t want to keep going back in time forever, I need to enjoy today.  So I need to make sure that the things I say today, and from now on, are thought about.  That I let people know how special they are on the very days they are special.

Where would you go?