Day 1,193 (not) in the Nanny June Care Home

The One With The Forgotten Cigarette Packet.

This week, while sorting through a box - I unexpectedly found some of Nanny June’s memories.

A cigarette box with a lock of golden hair.

A moment in time taken from the head of a little girl; locking down the moment. Keeping the moment for ever. Except it’s not forever. It’s my memory now. The memory of my own hair.

They were meant to be her safeguard, a back up. An anchor against life’s moments floating away.

But these innocent items betrayed her. The memories have left her, unlike the golden mementos which are so real I can hold them in my hand. Like holiday trinkets brought back from abroad, something to catch the essence of where you once were.

But now it’s just me and these props from my childhood.

The cigarette packet... always red, never blue. The smell of the box, the shiny foil inside. Collecting the embassy tokens. Counting them up together. Spending them in the catalogue. Once shared memories.

Now just my happy memories.