The lake and park was 2.7 miles away from home. It was a fair walk but in this Village, in this town, that was the norm. The Primary school was a stones throw away. But secondary school was 1.8 miles away. We walked everywhere, my brother and I. As the years passed in this town we would walk miles more. Heading into the main town centre and to the next town over where we both would spend our adolescence years skating round and around in circles.
The walking for miles to go meet friends was again, normal. Back in this year we had no mobile phones and we had to be home as the street light went on. The summers where hot. Hotter than hot and hazy. The kind of summer days that now as an adult seem not to exist. It seemed every friend at school was doing the same thing and going to the same places. Sometimes with parental knowledge and consent and some without. I do believe I was one of the ones without. I was young, how young I am not sure. I remember I had just stopped wearing white ankle socks. As most will know white ankle socks... a big no no, which was, back then, grounds for a beating up. So I had white tan lines around my ankles. (Sport socks had not been invented yet.) So still not sure exactly what age I was. I was under the age of 13 that much I am truly sure of.
The day was hot, sunny and I knew where everyone would be. Capstone Park
My parents had got a bit savvy on the ‘taking things’ out the house. At this point they were getting wise to not leave anything lying around. So I would take one of my brother’s pound coins instead. He was still left with two! I would find some poor sap to go into Martin’s and buy my fags. ‘Excuse me, can you get me ten b and h and a box of matches, please?’
I had been a bit of a bastard child, and I would like to say I got better. But I didn’t. I got worse and worse. I stole, I lied, I did what I wanted, and I misbehaved. – Basically I had a shit loud of fun! But at the expense of others. I can only recognise this now because I am an adult. Back then, I was what most people would say ‘a typical teenage girl.’ Ahem to that!
On occasion I would get caught being naughty or just be playing up. Often my brother and I would fall out. (It wasn’t me, it was him!) Often we were together when we played up and then we would fall out with both our parents. This strengthened the bond between my brother and me in the process. Often after falling out with our parents there would be a discussion about what had happened. Often this was upsetting; I would lay on how upsetting of course and I would cry. I knew my dad hated seeing us upset and I used it to my advantage as much as I could. (Hey I was a teenage girl) my dad always carried a hanky in his pocket. He would hand his hanky over when the tears came. I wish I could tell you that he only needed to hand me a hanky a handful of times over the years. But sadly no, those hanky’s still get pulled out even now. Of course my tears now are real. My dad brings a great sense of comfort and relief during troubled times. I am sure my brother and mother would totally agree.
On this particular sunny day in the hot summer holidays, I took my brothers pound, got some fags, I had one of my dad’s hankies with me. I used to put my coins in the middle of the hanky and then tie it up, twisting the top so the money would not jingle around. I USED to put this in my sock! But now it was impossible, so I put the coins in my shoe and the hanky tucked in to the band of my shorts. No pockets, no key, no phone, no bag. (When you didn’t need to carry your life around with you!) I start the long arse walk down to Capstone Park
The walk was nice, mostly country lanes although I had to walk through a few fields. Or... you could roll down them. Often doing that just for the fun of it. It’s all good until you roll yourself into some dogshit! (Never happened to me thank goodness.) I finally get to the lake and I look around for my friends. I know they are here somewhere. I see the lake and really need a drink. I walk past the shop and see a few friends lying on blankets on the grass with a couple of boys sitting near them. I start to walk over when I realise I can’t feel my hanky in the band of my shorts. I start to look behind me, around me, even down my shorts- everywhere. Fuck fuck fuck!
I don’t know why it bothered me so much. It was not like that hanky was indeed my dad and I had lost HIM. But that feeling deep inside my stomach, ached to the point of making me sad. I didn’t want to loss my dad’s hanky. It was my dad’s. So I turned and started walking back the way I came. I kept on walking getting more and more upset while I walked. Panicked even, heart was skipping, tummy was churning.
(Looking back I think it was totally irrational to feel like that.) Almost running down the country lane before having to cross the field I see something white in the road. Oh god I hope that is it… breaking into a run and the closer I got the more I was absolutely positive it was my hanky. Relief and happiness and a smile across my face. I picked it up and dusted it off then letting out a deep sigh. (I remember feeling so much better.) Again I turned and walked back to my friends at the lake and making sure that I tucked the hanky in tight!
I had a dream about this not so long ago. The emotion that I felt on this day, the smells, sounds, the heat, the thirst in my mouth and throat, the excitement, the fear, freedom and of course the feeling of loss, I felt it all came flooding back. I did what most adults do; I sat and thought about this dream and how vivid it was. My subconscious could have pulled this up for so many reasons.
My son is becoming a 13 year old in Jan. To which I am struggling with all the drama that can and does present.
I worry about my parent’s health.
I worry about my family.
I feel guilt for the things I did in my youth.
My son more recently has asked me to buy him some hankies.
On many occasions I have pulled a hanky from my son’s pocket.
A year ago today my brother was run over.
All of the above perhaps.
I think I worked out why I was so attached to the hanky. College was rather heavy this week. Something was brought up about loss. This brought up more recent events involving my brother and it did remind me that, still now, as an adult any possessions that have been given to me by family members, I hold very dear to me.
Fear of losing members of my family.
I fear I am losing my child to adulthood.
I fear losing my children full stop.
I witnessed my parent’s loss when they lost their parents.
I fear losing mine.
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