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This chapter is more of a prelude to my story and will be developed as if they were memories shared and as such won't have a dialogue but more like a soliloquy where I am talking to myself. It is my first ever written so I hope you'll be gentle with your comments.
When I was young I thought the world just revolved around us who lived on our street. Our friends and neighbours were our relatives of various ages.
Life for the most part was good. .. mostly.
I was a middle child among many.
Life got exciting when we received hand me downs and we grew so quick that those treasures we received, would quickly pass through us to the younger ones. But we were happy. We were together. We were and are a family.
We didn't have all the "modcons" that some families had.
I can remember my Grandmother lighting the fire and putting the cast iron pot over it to cook porridge for our breakfast. She used her apron to lift on and off when needed.
I loved her apron. She always had something in her pocket that we would love.
Sometimes it would be a hard boiled lolly, and sometimes it was a shiny pebble she picked up along the way during her day that she polished off. (probably with her spit and apron) She even used it to wipe our hands dry after washing them.. and our tears when we cried.
We use to go for long hikes together as a family.
We'd walk for miles all over the place. It wasn't always easy since some of the younger ones were just babies still just learning to walk. Sometimes we would walk for miles and miles before coming home just before dark. Often with some present in our pockets for our Nan.
Mum and Dad always made our family time interesting.
And our Nan..
I loved the times we spent with our grandmother. She always had a story to tell. I loved listening to her tell them. Nearly every night we would have a story after dinner before bedtime.
We didn't want to go to bed at all because those stories were so exciting. She told us stories of bushrangers, gunfights and hangings.
Little did we know that they weren't just stories. They were memories. Memories that would impact all our lives especially as we grew older.
YOU ARE READING
From My Life Bk 1 in the From SeriesChickLit
Part 1 (This story may start off being somewhat slow, but I can assure you that it will make you take notice the more you read this and the following books in this series. So please give it a try) Part 2 is the follow on to this book. Please read an...