There was a road that led home from my school, a long endless road it seemed to me, although I was much smaller, and my legs much shorter. I walked home down this road every day from the ages of 5 ’til 18, often twice a day when I went home for lunch.
I remember small girls thoughts inside my head. Would I always be walking here? Did the Jane of yesterday and the Jane of tomorrow walk along here at the same time as me? Could I one day bump into myself? ( I was a solitary bookish child).
I recalled this when I hijacked a works trip to London with Father of Pearl. London was so close to my Essex home, that school trips, gallery visits and teenage forays all started at Liverpool Street station. F o P dashed off to his meeting while I moseyed over the millennium bridge to catch a tube to the V & A. I found myself face to face with St Pauls, and wondered if a primary aged Jane crept around the whispering gallery, awed, excited, nervous.
I stride, child free and grinning from ear to ear over the Millennium bridge. Briefly I was taken aback and wondered if small girl Jane would believe the world of wheelchairs, special schools and endless fights she would grow up into. Before I had a chance to feel the sad longing for a ‘normal’ life I remembered.
I remembered the quiet serious, bookish child, who struggled to fit in. The girl who was concerned to keep the peace so her poorly Daddy wasn’t worried into hospital with an asthma attack. The teenager who always wore the wrong clothes, bought at the wrong shops and who was declared” the frumpiest girl in the school” (oh how we laughed) The sixth former who on a trip to this very London threw up in Covent Garden (something I ate? Nerves? I’ll never know) which triggered a two year battle with an eating disorder which seemed would make her fade away.
And then I think of my ‘non typical ‘ life the profession I had to give up, the hospital appointments, statement reviews and filing cabinets of reports. The tired days the worried nights, and I catch myself.
I’m happy (and well medicated) confident, loved and in love, with life my jumbley, surprising, unexpected children, my fabulous Northern powerhouse of a husband, with this London – and with myself. Truly. And I remember that the solitary, serious Jane always had a huge capacity to love and was always loved in return.
So unexpected though my life has been would I change it? Well some days, yes. On the mornings I wake dreaming Pearl has started to speak I will always feel an aching and a longing.
I bend down and whisper to the skipping infant aged Jane ” it’s going to be alright”.
Jane you too are a powerhouse. You truly are xx
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Thank you-but a Southern one obviously….
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A national powerhouse x
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I like it!I may have a business card printed.Thank you-publishing it and reading it back has made me feel unexpectedly emotional.Better go and do the hoovering.
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The inside of your head is like mine, Jane…both as child and adult it seems. You could have written much of this on my behalf – made me emotional too – not quite enough to make me grab the hoover though 😉 I love your writing. Keep going. X
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It’s OK I procrastinated and the feeling went away.Aren’t we complex,and fearfully and wonderfully made .
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I remember the small Jane and I am so sad we lost touch after ‘big’ school started xx
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Wish Deal was a bit nearer but I’m not sure that’s how continental drift works!
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I will make an effort to get to you Jane. Plans for change afoot this year so hopefully before Xmas. Will tie in with trip to family in Sheffield xxxx
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This is so beautiful Jane. Thank you for sharing your memories. X
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Beautiful & melancholy xxx
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Thank you.It kind of wrote itself around me when I was in London,and those were the feelings I had about it to.
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