Last semester I did a writing creative nonfiction class in which one of the tasks was to write a small response to a different prompt each week. Seeing as the semester is over I can now post this piece from week one. This week we had to write a ‘Notes of a Childhood’ poem/list. This was my take on the prompt!

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At first only Me; Mummy, Daddy, and Me.
Two years of quiet and then,
Half the attention but double the fun.
I talk to Mummy’s feet now,
As my sister has her arms.

England now.
Waking up in the dark for school,
Immaculate uniforms,
Shirt, skirt, duffle coat, and a beret of sorts to boot.
Socks drying in the microwave? …socks no more.
Porridge with golden syrup – hello dentist!
Or maybe Maccas if we’re running late,
Driving those narrow, winding lanes.

Walks, so many walks.
To ‘Plaxtol Disney Land’, the ‘Sheep Walk’, and more.
If not in the garden, then what is the point?
– Grass fishing
– Hide and seek
– Tea parties with teddies
– The trampoline

Despite this,
Such endless bickering,
Sisters, hey?
Poor Mum…
When will it stop?

They read us Harry Potter each night.
My favourite part of the day!
“It’s Her-myon-e not Her-meowne!”
(Dad never really got it right; I think he meant to, just to annoy us, to make us laugh.)

Back in Australia.
We pick out Dad’s shirt, tie, and cufflinks for work each night.
Our choices perfect…
Nearly every time!
My favourite was the purple shirt, Evelyn’s the white.

I read Harry Potter myself now.
Now finished in one weekend to avoid spoilers.
Dumbledore’s death rudely revealed to me in a school assembly of 2005
…I’m still bitter about that

More walks with Mum, and now a dog,
A groodle called George,
He’s a massive softie.
Always lots of grumbling on my part,
But reluctantly happy in the end.
“That was the best walk Mum!”

First time I see Dad cry,
Part of me hopes it’s the last.
New town, two houses, separate families.

“Things can only get better!” I say to Ev, she could never cope with change.

Me however, being older, I had to.