Sunday, September 2, 2012

Precious memories ....

Yesterday I had a lovely conversation with a woman I work with, about the things in our homes that mean so very much to us. I am not talking about things of monetary value, but the things that we possess that remind us of a special day or time in our lives. I have many little things in our home, just like this. So many little treasures that evoke beautiful memories.
While I was a student nurse, I did some part-time work providing in home care for a three year old little boy called Angus, who had Mitochondrial Disease. Angus brought so much joy to those around him with his very sweet nature and at times, wicked sense of humour. I absolutely loved caring for Angus and the time that we spent playing with his toys and giggling, while lounging on the verandah of his family's beautiful Queenslander, are memories that I will cherish forever. Often while I was at his home, his father would paint. On my last day of working for them, Angus' father gave me this beautiful painting (below) of their family home. Their house had so much character and contained the most beautiful pieces of art, but was almost haunted with a mixture of extreme sadness but yet happiness, that it was desperately trying to hold onto - I can't quite describe it. I have taken this painting with me everywhere. It has lived in share houses, in my bedroom, in living rooms, has been with me as l lived on my own and more recently, is on the wall of our study, in the home that I now share with my own family. I will forever love this painting.
Angus died in 2001. When I look at this painting, I think of him giggling when he used to watch his Wallace and Gromit video's and the way he used to snuggle on my lap and say -  ' Katie, wead me a stor-wee'. When my little boy is older, I fully intend on telling him about why this painting is so very precious and of a beautiful boy I used to know called Angus.

What things do you have in your home that are so very precious to you? I would love to hear about them.......

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