When I was a child growing up in land locked Zimbabwe, the craving for a seaside holiday was always overwhelming. Once a year – for 3 precious weeks – our family would motor down to Durban, in what was then Natal and is now Kwa Zulu Natal, and every possible moment was spent on the beach and more importantly, in the water. When it was time to go home, I went into a down-spin child-depression, which we called sadness. How come kids get to be sad and adults get to be depressed? I would pack my clothes and my collection of sea shells and my swimsuits (called “cozzies”) into my suitcase, and always made sure that the cozies were not rinsed out. This was because when we were back in Zimbabwe, and I was missing the ocean, I would take out a cozzie from its hibernation and suck it, tasting the salt residue and shutting my eyes I would re live a swim in the ocean.
I am not a child any longer although sometimes I confess to feeling as though I am truly into my 2nd childhood. But I have carried through some of my childhood habits, one being the urgent deep need to hold onto something precious and re live memories. Thus – when I left Israel, I brought with a beautifully shaped piece of rock I found in the sea when I was swimming at the beach in Herzliya, and from Ft Lauderdale, a grey T shirt that I had worn the last time I rocked baby Brandon, unwashed and scented with his special baby aroma. Like the cozzies – this grey T shirt will remain as is. I shan’t wash it, and when I miss him and our cuddle sessions, I will simply cuddle the T shirt and try to recreate that special time.
No comments:
Post a Comment