I’m very late in posting this for the prompt A Memory for the gallery from Tara at Sticky Fingers.
It is two photographs of my Gran (Dad’s Mum) and me. Gran was a huge part of my childhood (& adulthood really). She was a very independent lady who was widowed early. She emigrated to Australia for a time, travelled all over the world (bringing back all kinds of holiday memorabilia for me), worked well into her retirement years, and loved to talk about the ‘old’ people at bingo, who were all probably younger than her 80 odd years at the time. The photo on the right is one of us stood outside Gran’s shop, which was a knitting & sewing shop. Gran patiently taught me to knit as a child, usually on a Saturday night when she babysat, and Casualty was on the TV. I am indebted to her for this skill she passed on, as it is a hobby I turn to when life gets too fast.
The photo on the left is outside the tiny little terraced house we lived in from when I was about 2 years old. We lived with Gran when I was born up until moving to this house. What makes me so fond of this photograph is how obviously I am unimpressed with the rose she is so lovingly showing me.
The surprising thing about both photographs is how alike my baby son I am in the earlier photo, and how alike my youngest daughter in the rose image. Everyone tells me how alike my younger children are to my husband, but I guess I have injected some genes along the way.
I have some amazing memories of Gran, that I treasure. Her love for us all, her no nonsense attitude to life, how she knew everything about a multitude of sports & how supportive of me she was when I returned to my home town with a 14 month old baby as a single mum.
Whilst opening up the tiny frame the earlier photograph was in, out fell a tiny folded piece of paper with her handwriting on. Only some jottings of what look like times. I probably put it in there, but it was lovely to see. Even better was simply my name written on the back of the photograph itself in her hand. I may have shed a little tear.
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