Day 30, My earliest memory

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Walking down the road where I lived as a child, holding my Dad’s hand, or most likely his finger as I was small and just toddling.

Somehow I tripped and fell over breaking one of my front teeth.

I did not lose my front tooth, my last milk tooth, until I was 21.

Day 27, Something difficult

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Reposting from March of this year, although I could have chosen many other difficult topics. Funny that, how some feel alright to write about straight away and some take a bit longer, if they ever emerge at all. Having said that, this day’s topic has given me food for thought and maybe I should get to work on a couple of blog posts about really difficult issues that I have faced.

Anyway, Empty Room. I have been told that I made people cry with this one. I made myself cry too.

This morning was poignantly reminiscent of the first morning after I brought my first baby home from hospital. We actually travelled home at about 3am, but after some sleep I awoke again when the sun was up, and the peaceful day greeted us. Everything seemed so much more special, senses enhanced. This morning the sun squeezing through the misty sky, the gentle hum of the dishwasher and the washing machine, smell of coffee, fabric conditioner, detergent, took me back to that day more than sixteen years ago. Today there was peace and quiet with sleeping children in bed, oversleeping because of the clocks changing last night. That feeling of home comforts, having those you love safe and sound and close by. Normality, the inner peace that mundanity can bring.

Over sixteen years on I am not creeping upstairs to my bedroom to see my sleeping daughter. There is an empty room, like the one I had nightmares about when she was born. Terrified that something bad would happen to her. How could I protect this tiny baby? Now in my house is an empty room. Up the stairs from the hum of the appliances that used to soothe and settle my daughter, her room is bare, possessions piled up ready to be taken away. In a cloud of teenage anger, confusion, fear perhaps, she decided she was moving out. I love her more than ever and it hurts more than ever. The fear and overwhelming responsibility for a new baby is nothing in comparison to this.

Day 26, My five favourite posts

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1. ADHD and big sunglasses which you can find here on my (retired)  BlogHer blog http://www.blogher.com/adhd-and-big-sunglasses

2. This one about why I had a blogging break a few years back http://www.blogher.com/why-i-have-not-blogged-long-story

3. My top ten tunes on this blog as part of the August challenge, because it is bound to say something about me. I am not sure quite what it says about me but you usually get an idea about someone from the music they like. https://saraheatonwriter.wordpress.com/2014/08/07/august-blog-challenge-day-7-my-top-ten-sort-of/

4. Diaries, about old diaries that I found at home, here https://saraheatonwriter.wordpress.com/2014/02/01/diaries/

5. My best blog post, which I think like many of us, I feel I am yet to write.

Day 25, A moment in my day

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In town, at the Belgrave Mela. Watched a performance by a troupe of some very energetic, young street dancers. After they had finished, a woman with a bulldog chewing a wasp expression said to her husband ‘well that just looked like some people just got up on stage and decided to dance’. I’d like to see her try! Something very British, somewhat reassuring, about this little pocket of disgruntlement in a sea of otherwise happy fun loving people enjoying the Bank Holiday.