My parents lived in the same London house for thirty-two years. I was eleven-years-old when we moved in and my sister just two. The house, a guardian of our lives, witnessed weddings, christenings, engagement parties and countless birthdays. Dad maintained it was like the Forth Road Bridge, a large house which constantly needed attention. Mum was his decorators mate, holding the wallpaper whilst he smoothed it on the wall, her one complaint was that whilst brushing the paper onto the wall he frequently elbowed her on the top of the head. Dad passed his knowledge on to both sons-in-law and was always available to help out when needed.
HOLD FAST
Close the door on a lifetime of memories,
gather your courage and walk away.
Convince yourself echoes of the past
are locked in your head,
safe in your heart.
Do not permit the icy fingers of doubt
to establish a stronghold.
You will always remember.
You must remember.
Do not forget.
Will you ever summon the strength
to walk the road once more?
Unable to turn, open the gate,
Walk the chequered path.
Hug your dad, kiss your mum.
Shepherd excited children through the door.
Along the hallway to the kitchen.
The beating heart of this home.
A room lodged deep in your soul.
The custodian of your past.
Stubborn little buggers, the memories abide.
A long-distance love story, conducted by air-mail
and the telephone on the wall, by the door.
Tender words of love and a future planned
whispering alone in a darkened kitchen. Close your eyes and every detail springs to life.
Glossy sage green cabinets, forest green worktops,
soft orange tiling, green brick feature wall.
Unable to thwart the ruthless passage of time,
hold fast. Do not allow those chunks of joy to fade.
Twenty eight years later, the room
no longer exists in the form remembered.
An entire family hold on to memories.
Grandparents, parents and children
changing places reshuffled by the years.