When I remember I flit between being there next to them and flying overheard, like a bird soaring over them. We are walking side by side on the dusty path along the side of the road. Me, my Dad and my little brother. My little brother in his pushchair. He’s not quite steady enough on his feet or trustworthy enough to not dart off into the road, giggling. We walk beside the dusty ditch and past surrounding fields. It is quiet and the sun is shining. Occasionally cars drive by, whipping up the wind and silence. We are singing. My Dad would often make us do this. He would teach us songs and have us singing at the top of our lungs. Without inhibition. Now I’m shocked that I didn’t care what others would think if they heard us. What would they think of this grown man, his 10 year old daughter and 3 year old son, singing at the top of their lungs. Singing “She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes. She’ll be coming round the mountain….” making up silly lyrics as we went along. songs of peace, progression and social activism. I wonder where he learned them. It felt so good. He would walk us for miles and we didn’t notice. Over the years he has walked us across fields, up hills and down lanes in the sunshine and pouring rain. We talked as we walked and set the world to rights. We had his undivided attention. As we walked he would listen. As I grew older, he would listen, wax lyrical, have philosophical debates about the world. Many a lesson in morals and ethics. How to treat people. As we walked he would point out things in nature. He would name trees, plants, flowers and birds. Taught me their latin names. We would revel in the awe of it all. Afterward we felt cleansed, exorcised and calm. Sometimes a quandary was discussed, we left resolute with what action to take next. My Dad, my saje, my shaman. Us three. Indivisable. A unit. My family. Over the years we grew up and grew out of those walks. Now I feel a pang of jealousy as he tells me he is going for a walk with my 6 year old niece and I am not invited along. I want to walk with him, sing without inhibition and have his undivided attention.
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Helen Kennett-BaconOriginally from South Yorkshire in England, I've lived with my husband Neil in Kitsilano, Vancouver for 10 years. We are fur-parents to our French bulldog Dave, I am a Registered Psychiatric Nurse specialising in ADHD. Archives
August 2016
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