One of my treasures is my baby book. My parents collected ephemera about my life from the day I was born – things like baby photos, school reports, class photos, news clipping from local newspapers, university graduation programs. My mother recorded developmental milestones, such as my first tooth emerged when I was seven months old, my first step was taken when I was 12 months old. There’s nothing unusual here; just the same sorts of information that parents everywhere like to recall about their children.
There are a few special fragments, though; special to me because they remind me when I started to love stories, and tried to write them myself.
This is one of the first stories I wrote and illustrated. I can’t remember when it was and there’s no date on the paper but my mother has noted that it was given a 1st prize and “entered in honour book”, which is a lovely memory.
My story is obviously derivative of something I had read or heard and, even at that early age, I was drawn to flowers and dreams. I continue to spend a lot of time with both!
I share this with you today to remind you that, sometimes, whatever we long to do in our lives already has its seeds inside us. Recalling our childhoods can reveal the small things that we nurtured. I am grateful that my love of storytelling was respected and cultivated by my family so that I continue to write today.