How can a three year period in a place feel like home?
Today (venue closed on Mondays) We (Geoff and I)_made a trip back to East Kilbride where I lived three years between the ages of 6 and 9yrs. Family wise it was a very difficult time. My one sanctury was the fact our house 27 Glen Devon (gotta love a rhyming address) backed (or fronted) onto the wonderful Calder Glen. In those days it was a completely wild wonderland, our few streets where the first to be built in what is now a serious suburban sprawl of admittedly nicely presented houses.
My beloved bluebell fields now long gone, in those days I escaped into the woods which were steep and rugged and went for miles and miles. Networks of dykes to be dammed, trees with terrifying chasm spanning swings on ropes and dens by the hundred and the waterfall (see pic). At the time it seemed huge now rather less so. But still lovely!
I called my Dad from the path looking down through the trees, an area fobidden (ignored) to us kids. His first comment was when I told him where we were standing was - 'don't slip down the bank'! I felt like 8 again. It's OK there's fences, it's a park now - kinda sad actually! Outside our old house, three little girls of differing ages played on bikes in what is still a very quiet cal de sac. Nothing changes - I told the girls I lived here a long time ago when it was first built. The eldest asked me how old I was when I left. I told her I was 9.
'I've had had my birthday yesterday - I'm 10 now' she said proudly. I was glad they were there, it made it OK - kinda!