August 14th, 1990

August 14th, 1990

At home (mum and dad’s)

I don’t know what I’d have done without mum and dad’s help moving all my stuff, which took most of the day.

“Yer no taking this old thing are ye?” dad asked, at the sight of mum’s steamer trunk.

“Uh-huh, I love that thing.”

“It’s bloody heavy.”

“That’s where Karen keeps all her secrets,” mum laughed.

“Yeah right, mum, the lock doesn’t even work.”

“Oh, if only it could talk,” mum sighed, gazing longingly in the trunk’s direction.

“Those were the days eh, Lizzie?”

“Oh aye,” she smiled. “I still remember packing my stuff to come home from America. It was so heavy I couldnae move it.”

“Nothing’s changed,” dad laughed.

“I can give you a hand with it, dad.”

“Thanks, hen. Wit do ye actually keep in it?”

“All my old diaries, letters, photos and stuff like that.”

“Yer a sentimental wee soul,” he said, squeezing my shoulder.

I wouldn’t disagree with that.
 

 

 

 

 

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