I remember a time where everything around me was grand, and everything that I came across was new and exciting. The newly polished floorboards at my gran's house was an ice rink to me, a perfect place on which to practice my sock skating. Her large, two poster bed would be my own trampoline, which I contended to bounce up and down, trying to reach that elusive ceiling light that had so much dust on it. The banister that followed the stairs down to the kitchen would have been the perfect pole-slide that it been more vertical but that didn't stop me. Down I would go, hugging the railing until I felt at little wooden block bump into my backside, which told me that it was the end of the banister and the end of my ride. Then enthusiastically I would run up the stairs and slide and slide down again, until was dizzy from the running and the sliding and the running.
Grandparents
Grandparents Virji visit Laila
English: Close-up of the terminal colector a the e...Then of course my mother would intersect me before I trying to slide again. She would call into her presence and look at me with her disappointed eyes:
"What am I to do with you? (Pause and sign) How many times I have told you not to slide down the banister? You've gotten your clothes all dirty, and they're new clothes as well. And don't think that I haven't noticed the foot prints on gran's bed, I've told you once I've told you a hundred times, gran's bed is not a trampoline. You'll ruin the springs in the bed, and then gran will have to buy another bed. You don't want that do you?" mother lectured with a strained patience showing in her voice.
But of course I didn't notice that at the time. I was...