To Shirley

Thanks for letting me see your writings; to look through your child's eyes.
The money boxes - blue for Lesley, red for Shirley... that was so real... what it is like being a child. I don't know why that particular bit should stick with me
Don't get me on my old hobby-horse... but you know how I see a child as so passive, so vulnerable... someone who has things done to them... said to them. And they accept it... trusting in the adult. The little companions having to go on top of the wardrobe in a sealed bag... What is this thing 'Life' that I have got myself into... I sort of imagine a little child saying that. No, not saying it, but feeling it.
So many things that I was told... all for the best intentions. And the little pleasures... sitting on your grandad's knee. Then accepting that it must come to an end when an adult tells you it is time for bed.
I had a phase of not being able to sleep. It was awful. But I had to go to bed... to lie awake... and worry about being tired for school... or whatever awful things happened to you if you didn't get enough sleep.

You have told me some of this before, but it is like seeing another part of you.