Friday, 17 October 2014

WordPress Daily Prompt: Reverse Shot

What’s your earliest memory involving another person? Recreate the scene — from the other person’s perspective.

Me at Nutfield

“Take your finger out of your nose and don’t put them in your mouth.”

A first memory from mum’s point of view? She could never leave me to my own thing, always interfering and I found so many tasty things in places where my fingers should not have wandered..

“Stop it” she said pulling my hand away from where it was. “Have a nice swing. We don’t have a swing at home, so make the most of the country life. Go and play with your friend and stop sulking. Take that hand away …….. I will give you a push on the swing.

You would think she would be happy, but there she is doing her best to make a sulky face.”

Ok, there we have one of my earliest memories from mum’s point of view I think. It must have been 66 years ago, so who knows if some of the details are forgotten.

To be quite honest my first memory is arriving on the scene. The midwife clapped and said “at last”. Someone gave me a thump on a sensitive part of my anatomy and I took my first deep breath and screamed. It seemed to be the thing to do. They all clapped again and cheered as if to say “it’s alive”. Of course I was alive and breathing; I mean that was what it was all about. Then I decided it was time to have a sleep to recover from the exhaustion of my birth. It was not easy and I had to do it all on my own. Ok, someone was pushing from behind I suppose, but only because I was giving the orders.

The next event was someone putting a rubber thing into my mouth attached to a glass bottle. Ok, I was thirsty after all the pushing and screaming so I decided to see what this thing was. Some call it instinct, I call it my natural born intelligence but I had a pull on this rubber thing. Not bad, I was being fed,  so I decided to carry on. Everything was going fine until I took another draw on this object in my mouth and nothing came. It was empty. No more of this stuff called milk. I decided to give out a few more screams. There were tears running down my cheek and everyone around me was smiling and saying things like “how sweet”. I did not feel sweet, actually I felt quite uncomfortable, but after all this excitement I decided to try out my recycling process. I did not exactly smell like Siddartha, but again everyone seemed to be happy. Everything was in order.

“Bring me a clean diaper” said this person dressed in white to another person dressed in white. The person that pushed me out into this place was no longer around. I decided this person would be my main contact in this place, but she was gone. I was missing her already, after a few hours, so I screamed again and someone patted me on my cheek whilst someone else was washing my private parts. Was this what it is all about? Was this what I was waiting for after nine months tossing and turning in a dark place, hearing noises and wanting to join in. I was a recycling machine: put it in one end and it arrives at the other.

I arrive, am given a resounding slap on my bottom causing me to scream. I discover that I can make noises and now I smell and everyone finds it sweet. Where is this person that pushed out to this place, it is her fault, I want to go back. I decide to close my eyes and forget it all. And then I wake with this person that I was missing and she gave me that rubber topped glass bottle and I was happy. Everyone seemed to be happy.

“Yes that’s my baby.”

“What will her name be?”

Maureen Patricia Ann, my mum wanted her to be called Patricia”

“But we thought you wanted a Maureen.”

“No I changed my mind, let her be called Patricia.”

Actually by the time that conversation occurred I couldn’t care less if my name had been turnip. My decision was made for me. I had no choice, I was here to stay so they would all have to put up with me.

And that is my story and I am sticking to it. “No mum I will not tell you why I had my fingers in my mouth, it is none of your business.”

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