Back in London for the homestretch of my masters. Typing it up til spring.
The past few weeks have been wonderful. I went “home” for Christmas, although our Christmas holidays were actually hosted by my sister in Canada. Then over New Year’s, my sister and I flew down to Seattle and helped my Dad pack up the house. It was dusty, nail-breaking work. We took 21 boxes to Half Price books and made a tidy fortune. We found forgotten treasures, books like The Great Big Enormous Turnip and Two in a Tent, and also a pair of moldy recorders… You know, the ones from elementary school? Well they hadn’t been played OR cleaned in the intervening two decades.
Inspired by a certain youthful meter, here is an ode to my second childhood home:
3 Comments
Did you create that drawing and accompanying poem? It's greaet.
ps. that was a typo, not an Irish accent.
Thank you and yes, I woke up with those images in my mind's eye at the end of that visit.