Wednesday, September 26, 2012

I do not want to grow up

I just don't. I don't want to be an adult. I remember when I was little and I was sick and my Nanna would wrap me in this heavy sort of machine crocheted white blanket that she had that was probably from about 1974 but always crisp and that perfect white. I'd lay out sideways on her floral couch in this blanket with one of those frilly boomerang shaped pillows behind my neck, and watch TV. I could watch whatever I wanted and Nanna would just you know sit there and genuinely watch whatever I put on or offer me a tissue or ask me how I was feeling. She'd ask me if I wanted the curtains open or closed or the lamp with the hideous corduroy shade on or off and sometimes she'd go and potter in the kitchen, preparing me a snack or a bowl of strawberries - individually cut into perfect quarters - which I'd rest nestled in the folds of the blanket. 

I think I lay there for days at a time, and, despite feeling unwell physically I just felt so unshakably safe, probably the safest I will ever feel. It was everything about her presence, the noise of her in the kitchen (maybe making me a quarter cut white bread Vegemite sandwich for lunch) you know, occasional muffled clinks but never clatters, she'd be washing dishes as she goes and putting everything back in it's rightful place. The TV guide was always at arms reach on the coffee table, folded open at the correct date and remote by its side. There was also that falling apart, sticky taped thesaurus on top of a matte golden brown coloured coaster - the same colour as my Grandad's old car. There'd be a blue ballpoint 'Reese' pen handy so she could do the crossword in the Herald Sun, unless of course she was sharing the paper with her neighbor so then she had to write in pencil and rub it out. The pen had also recorded last nights lotto numbers on her losing lotto ticket that would laze somewhere near to be thrown out upon the purchase of a new one the following day. I remember listening to her talk on the phone to her sisters, usually Ruby, about "How everyone was" you know, she was always asking how everyone else was. But, it was so quiet there, with Nanna and I watching daytime television in the lounge room. Those days, runny nosed and feverish, were some of the happiest days of my life, and that's why I don't want to grow up.

Yeah yeah, cry me a river, whatever. I've told you before I have a severe case of Peter Pan syndrome. I'm gonna go watch Mary Poppins. *Me and my issues*

Speaking of Nannas, below are some pictures from my Nanna's house, but not the Nanna I was talking about above, see, I have two Nannas, and they're both polar opposites. Below Nanna has Rothko and Pre-Raphaelites books and Persian rugs.

Okay this has nothing to do with Nannas. It's new fabric that I bought, I love it. One good thing about being an adult is that you can get a Paypal account and go online shopping for mushroom fabric I guess.

1 comment:

  1. I'm in a similar boat...its like I spent my childhood wanting to be an adult and now I just want to be a kid again.