” Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.”

- Kevin Arnold

My childhood, bedtime toy.

As old as me minus one year, he was there when I blew out my first candle.

Mum called him Clancy which translated into ‘Clouncy’  in toddler speak

so

Clouncy it has been forever and a day.

He has seen me through the best of times and the worst of times.

He was always there;

my best friend when I had none.

He was my good when everything was bad.

He holds so many of my memories,

secret, whispers in the night.

Hopes and dreams and hurt and pain.

She spied him up in the very top of the cupboard one day, pushed right back, folded in two, ripped and old and sad.

She asked about him but I couldn’t explain properly.

He was more than just a toy.

On the weekend I took him down, this precious memory of days long passed.

She smoothed out his unbrushed hair, noticed his bandaged hands. Cradled his limp unstuffed body, remarked on the bright colours of his costume, the yellow ruffle at the base of his top, the striped stocking legs.

She didn’t see an old ragbag clown that should have been thrown away too many years ago.

She saw him as beautiful and important.

Just as I do

and  for a moment I could see my girl -  self  holding him, with love and pride and awe

and felt like I was home.

This week’s theme at I Heart Faces  is “nostalgia”