They were recalling all these memories that I myself don't have. "Ceridwen, do you remember the rabbit muff and the pink cookie monster coat you used to wear all the time? With your brown Mary Janes? You refused to wear anything else!!!" Followed by chuckles. "Ceridwen, do you remember Uncle Dan picking you up from the orphanage in the afternoon and when you got home Auntie Mary would ask you what you wanted to eat and it was always "Smashed" Potatoes?" No, but I do love a good potato. "Ceridwen, do you remember running down the street in the middle of the night in your thin night gown yelling for help after your Mum fell through the plate glass window and Peggy and Betty found you the next morning under the bed freezing cold?" No, but I do remember later in my teen years that my Mum tried to blame that scar on my Father. "Ceridwen, I remember when you picked up a huge branch on the way to church and when the choir began to sing you stepped up on the pew and conducted them with that branch." Hmmmmm, I can almost see myself doing this. I do remember however that when my oldest sister came home for break that she brought me a gift....Donny Osmond knee high socks!!! I hated Donny Osmond and I had to wear the socks when we went into the city, Dublin, because it was the polite thing to do. Ugh. Even at the ripe old age of 4 I knew this was an embarrassment and has scarred me forever.
I don't remember being shuttled amongst relatives after my Mum had fallen through that plate glass window. I do remember the Nun at the Orphanage, they didn't have day cares then so you participated with the Roman Catholic Church. She had the longest red hair and did not wear a habit. I was very confused over that. I remember putting a toy truck on my foot thinking I could roller skate with it and cracking my head open. She was very caring and wonderful. I only wish I could remember her name.
Before the shuttling, we lived in a house outside of the city and I remember I had a wonderful playhouse in the back yard. My Mum would bring my meals to me out there. Sometimes the boys that lived across the street would jump on the house and make it rock, horrid little boys, I did not like them at all. I believe their last name was Moore.
There was a huge field in front of our house and I would wonder over there, with some kind of container in hand, in search of the ladybug! This is really my only memory of Ireland along with the red headed Nun who seemed to be breaking the dress code.
The field and lots of ladybugs just waiting to be collected by me!!!
They are perfection, round, shiny red with little black dots on each wing. They never flew away from you but landed gently on your arm or hand and just crawl around. They were magical little bugs that wouldn't bite you but did sometimes leave a trail of yellow on your skin. I would be in that field for hours, by myself, sitting with the ladybugs and if they were lucky, put in the container to be brought home. My Mum told me a story of when she went into the kitchen and spotted a tin cigar container on the kitchen table. She reached over to grab it and opened it upside down. She said ladybugs spilled all over the table and floor. They were everywhere!!! I am guessing after that she checked all containers and freed the ladybugs. Good thing, I might carry a lot of guilt if I knew the ladybugs had died a horrible suffocating death.
This is my precious memory. People tell me that they remember a lot from their younger years, I am actually grateful that I don't.
Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home
Your house is on fire and your children are gone
All except one, and that's Little Anne
For she has crept under the warming pan.
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