Remembering

I'm too young to get nostalgic, you might say. But things change too fast. I remember days when you could be 12 and perfectly happy in your body, no need for makeup, no need for fashion. I remember back when you could buy chocolate spread sandwiches at school. I remember when people who are alive weren't, people who aren't, were.
I remember the Pink Elephant ride at Chessington, from a 3 year old's eyes. I remember the red folder I was given before I started primary school - I remember drawing, writing, reading it. I remember when I had two cats, not one. I remember my Grandad.
I remember so many things which aren't, so many things that I wish still were. But it's not going to happen.

But I also don't remember. Things I know I should. Things I wish I could - I wish I could remember dressmaking classes at school, being taught how to sew by my grandmother, the days when the average hair height was at least 4 inches. But I can't, because as far as I'm concerned, those days never were. They aren't part of me. And they never will be. Because there aren't dressmaking classes at school. My grandmother died long before I was born. Hair is now a customary few centimetres.
Things that were. But aren't. And may never be.

This is from Olivia and I early Summer. They don't say it's official yet, but we know it's Winter. It smells of winter. It feels like winter. It's cold, it's wet and miserable. But I don't have to wear a coat to school yet, so maybe not.

 

Can you tell I love colours?

Olivia's clothes, my sunglasses :D