Having moved to several different places in my life, out family has gone through, found new, and given away chairs. My favourite chairs have many pleasant memories at tech these to them. Dad had crafted them himself. He was stubborn to have the just so. His personality is one that allows for this stubbornness. I think he got it from Grandpa, who reconstructed a bus to make it a vehicle you can live in and travel the country in. Grandpa would have got it from the pioneers in the Barossa valley, SA. Let's not start a history lecture. This is about chairs. If we're desperate to explain history, we can do that somewhere else. But Dad's determined character meant that we had chairs which were unique (and a little wonky after years of work). Dad constructed the chairs in the spare room. He didn't want painting the chairs to turn into a catastrophe, so he and Mum deliberately got up early to paint the chairs. Nah, that didn't work. I was up maybe an hour or two ea...
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When I was in first grade, I had a light-pink backpack. It was simple according to other people. Sometimes I let this get to me, but other times I’d ignore them. After all, it was my backpack. One time me and my Mum went on a lovely long walk and played outside. This was after school and I was carrying my backpack around with me. Soon enough, it was time for us to go home. But I returned with Mum backpack-less. I was terribly upset. We desperately searched the playground and asked people if they’d seen it. I racked my brain and remembered leaving it on the bench closer to the high school. We went there, but it was gone. Eventually Mum suggested we go and check the school, to see if anyone was smart enough to bring it to the school. The school kids were still hanging around and my teacher told me they were about to leave, but they were wondering whether I’d come. I got my backpack back happily, and very relieved. It had a lot of my schoolwork in it. Mum said that the schoolbooks hel...
It’s funny how adults could say something out of frustration, and you could see what’s profound in it. I can almost guarantee that my parents have forgotten this moment, but it was something special for me. All because I didn’t interpret the moment my Dad expected me to. Small things in life turn out to be deeper than we often think. Anyways, here goes the story. I was in the kitchen with me Dad who was making sandwiches, I don’t think we had a toaster back then so it wouldn’t have been toast. Either one slice of fresh bread with something on top or sandwiches. This is a bit beside the point. Dad asked me what I wanted, and I answered: “peanut butter… no vegemite… no peanut butter, no, vegemite!”- something like that. Dad was probably frantically switching between the peanut butter and vegemite jars as I ordered. Flustered, he snapped: “Don’t change your mind too much” Dad was trying to successfully butter some bread, meanwhile he had taught me an important life l...
I have already began telling you about Masha. She was my friend in year one. She is very smart, and read a lot. She was short, like me. Even shorter than me. This seemed to be pretty hard. She helped introduce me to her world. Which later became my world. The world of books. We would walk together to the library to borrow something, or to return something. I was a little nervous to go to the library myself because the school was very big. The high school and the primary school where I lived are connected. There wasn’t enough room at the primary school for our class, not even with two shifts of school- one in the morning and one in the afternoon. So, they moved our class to the big school. And the school was pretty big. The high school kids didn’t bother us, but I was still too nervous to walk to the library by myself in such a large area. I was afraid I’d get lost, because the stairs were pretty confusing, going up and down. Sometimes I have that dilemma in my dreams which pr...