I remember walking to school, the park, piano lessons. Walking slowly in the hopes that each slow step would make me another minute late. It didn’t of course – I was way too close to all those places for a slow walk to make much of a difference. Or maybe punctuality was inherited. I would give the storm water drains a wide berth for fear of falling down and joining lives with the sewer rats. I used to get this feeling walking on the jetty at the yacht club too – I thought I would fall through the gaps. I remember those dreadful childhood tails about the boy who had long hair and never cut his nails and the girl who didn’t eat enough and went down the plughole with the bathwater. They terrified me. My parents threatened me – I was not a big eater as a child – I was destined to disappear with the bathwater. That was the reason for the wide berth. I remember being told I was a ‘sweet little thing’ I was. That was when I wasn’t being a ‘two-faced little horror’. I remember the fear of disappearing; the pressure – trying so hard to remain despite gaping holes ready to swallow me up because I didn’t want to eat my peas.
I remember the long walk down to school taking care not to step on the lines between the paving stones. But there were no cracks or gaps. And those dreams – I remember those dreams – of arriving at school without my bag, my shoes or even my entire uniform. Naked dreams; exposed, embarrassed and guilty. I remember the normality.
I remember running away from home. My sisters packed my bag. They said I’d have a great time. I remember not knowing where to go once I got to the bottom of the road. I remember getting home before anyone really missed me.
I remember Jonathan Eacon, the minister’s son. The first boy I ever took a bath with. I always had crushes on minister’s sons. I remember they never had crushes on me.
I remember walking home when my mother forgot to fetch me … I remember she forgot a lot … and I remember hiding behind each tree I passed in case she was driving past to fetch me. I remember she never panicked about not finding me because when she forgot me, she forgot me for the whole day.
I remember the fear of the leather slipper, the wooden spoon or the cane. I remember the defiance as I stood there and took my punishment. I remember the tears that came once I had closed my bedroom door.
I remember being stolen.
I remember good times too.
I remember the surgeons in wellington boots.
I remember the time I didn’t have to try and stop myself from hitting my child. I remember the relief when the need for willpower slipped away. I remember when my child said I love you for the first time. I remember the fear of losing him. I remember that daily. I remember when things began to feel right. I remember the feeling of the tear rolling down my face when I heard his first cry. I remember when I started loving him.
I remember when perspective began to change my world.