the memory isn't mine. it was told to me by mother. time and again she recalled how dad ran after her over the hospital steps, in his haste paying no attention to the compact suitcase he was grasping; subsequently losing its contents on the marble staircase.
while she was in labour, mother squealed and pressed the nurse's palm; would her husband be okay, gathering all of her belongings, flying up in the air, as he took a plunge, over those pale, abrasive steps.
while she was in labour, mother squealed and pressed the nurse's palm; would her husband be okay, gathering all of her belongings, flying up in the air, as he took a plunge, over those pale, abrasive steps.
kristen's theme of memory this weekend. ♥ you guess it right : update!
A memory of a memory, what a tale of being born, Nadine! Your drawing of the hospital turned library is wonderfully rendered.
ReplyDeleteThe hospital where our children were born was torn down years ago to make way for a new hospital wing, but I can go there in my mind in an instant to this day.
-sus
HA! this is super Nadine! the Mother house is so wonderfully fitting and such a great story- well written! I could sense the hectic tension and excitement as you told it- and totally cool that the hospital is now a library :) Awesome!
ReplyDeletethanks so much for playing along this weekend- hope you had a good one! Best- K
whah!!! what a story
ReplyDeletei can see your father and mother ;^))))
and that the place is turned into a library, how wonderful is that!
dag, liefie!
en succes met de tuin ;^))
xx
Funny, funny, funny. Yes, it's easy to see your mum and dad on the staircase in front of me. Great that you made a drawing of this building. It will give you an own memory.
ReplyDeleteHaha, like this story and can image seeing this in a film I would like to watch because it has all a good story needs, as well if you image the main figure of the play sitting in the libary and feeling somehow at home in a film though you would meet the one and only guy of your life there and having an happy end. So, as it show, this story is not over yet there are a lot more chapters to write... a lot more memories to come!
ReplyDeletexo
barbara bee
that is a fun memory
ReplyDeleteso often it is the father's that get so flustered
mom's are quite busy with labor to do that
thank you for sharing this story
and what a building! charming drawing too ~
Love your drawing and the story behind it. Great sentence: busy being born. And the library is also a house of memories with all the books..
ReplyDeletehahah... busy being born! Nadeschda! Interesting point of view... wonderful story.
ReplyDeleteGasthuisstraat means Hospital street, right? so delicate your drawing, as always. And it cost some time but now, with my experience... I know that there is a row of houses. All your houses like single strung pearls... Love it!
See ya later, Hon!
Love
xo Ariane.
is it a mirror or a street lamp? and what is with the roof? is it a corner or a special built?
Deletesorry to bombard you with questions, Nadine...
xx A. oh three times...x
I do not know why when I think of memory, I think of something sad, but I think from your post, I know that memory is also fun!. I loved your story and your drawing!
ReplyDeletegreat!
ReplyDeletethe story of cause and your drawing - love that style, your collection of houses is beautiful!
you should build a town.
or what about a game? maybe a memory ;-)
x stefanie
YOu don't get a certain feeling in one room over the other :) I imagine I would though not trust that I would be correct. The body has memory. I always wish there was something n me that remembered being born :)
ReplyDeleteHa. That's a story! So yours, by the way. Born somewhere in the library. I have that in my mind now.
ReplyDeleteA mother, being busy to give birth in a delivery room full of books and bookshelves... ;-))
My place of birth is far less attractive...a small seventies birth clinic, at least with green surrounding...nothing to be kept on paper, I think...
P.S.: I really love the correlation of birth and death in our memories...I really do!
Delete