Saturday, 9 March 2019

Nostalgia again...

The 9th of March.  It was, many years ago, one of the most exciting days of my life.  Wonderful friends had driven us to Hamilton, where we were going to see a child who had been featured on a newspaper in Toronto as "an available child".  It's hard to imagine, isn't it?

We arrived at the office of the people who managed adoptions (strangely, they were there on a Saturday) and were met by the cutest, newly-walking child whose picture we clutched going in, just in case there were a bunch awaiting us. They didn't ask for any identification, something I only noticed later, but instead asked us to sit down while they brought in "the child".

He was so cute, still not entirely at ease walking, and carrying an obviously well-loved cotton rabbit.  We all fell in love at the moment, and jumped at the chance to take him out for a chance to interact with him.  We hadn't planned anything, but decided that we could go to McD's for a coffee and play with him in the kids corner.  Half an hour later, we were asked if we'd like to take him home!  We didn't waste a moment, even to consult each other...looking back, I think we grabbed him, his bunny and a green garbage bag which held his belongings, and headed for home, but I know we stopped long enough to call my parents, who called everyone we knew, most of whom were waiting for us when we got home.

So today isn't your birthday, Chris, but it's still a day we rejoice.

Thursday, 7 March 2019

Whomped !

Dave and I moved out of a large house about ten years ago, and I remember the feeling, both proud and fearful, as we made choices of things we would take with us to our one-bedroom apartment, and what we would try to make our kids take, and what would go to the Sally-Ann, and what would just wait for the next garbage day.

 I seldom miss those things but today I had taken on a project to look at photos that we would remove from  their frames and scan for our Google Photos file, so I was faced with reminders of what used to be.

Not only did the photos remind me of how many shades of blonde hair I've gone through, how cute our kids were, and how Dave often seemed to be going somewhere on a bike, they showed me how differently our last house looked inside in comparison to our apartment today.  Our living room had mauve furniture in the living room, we had a turquoise table and chairs backed up by pale mauve walls in the dining room, and our kitchen was big and bright, home to a couch where I could entertain friends or read while I was making dinner, and where we had two oval glass tables side by side in front of  windows that we never covered with blinds or curtains.  And our bedroom was so white I can't imagine now how we ever got to sleep.

We made good take-advantage-of multiple-uses decisions, but most of furniture that is small seems to be brown, and we used yellow and orange cushions and wall-hangings to offset it. That works and I don't mean I'm sorry about the choices, but I found myself surprised with the nostalgia that hit me, even when I was standing in a turquoise bedroom.

Being incredibly lucky in life doesn't keep you from getting surprised by change. And now that I think about it, I should just be feeling grateful.