This morning, I scrubbed away a decade's worth of grot from under and behind our fridge-freezer. I know it's been building up for at least ten years because, amongst the debris, I found a letter from my granny, dated December, 2006.
Before you judge me for my slovenly ways, let me tell you more about my granny's letter. She'd written to me in response to a verse from a poem I'd sent to her:
‘Cleaning and scrubbing can wait 'til tomorrow
For babies grow up we've learned to our sorrow,
So quiet down cobwebs and dust go to sleep
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.’
(Ruth Hulburt Hamilton)
“Thanks for the poem,” reads the reply from my then 91 year old grandmother (I can still hear her voice through her written words), "how true, but as families come first I guess dust can wait, eh?"
My babies are now 17, 15 and 13. Today’s reminder, hidden for years behind the fridge whose contents have sustained our family day by day, has opened the floodgates to many happy memories. I miss those little people - and I have no regrets over making that dust wait.
Before you judge me for my slovenly ways, let me tell you more about my granny's letter. She'd written to me in response to a verse from a poem I'd sent to her:
‘Cleaning and scrubbing can wait 'til tomorrow
For babies grow up we've learned to our sorrow,
So quiet down cobwebs and dust go to sleep
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.’
(Ruth Hulburt Hamilton)
“Thanks for the poem,” reads the reply from my then 91 year old grandmother (I can still hear her voice through her written words), "how true, but as families come first I guess dust can wait, eh?"
My babies are now 17, 15 and 13. Today’s reminder, hidden for years behind the fridge whose contents have sustained our family day by day, has opened the floodgates to many happy memories. I miss those little people - and I have no regrets over making that dust wait.