Wagons roll

I was trying to imprint creaky floorboard sounds and textures of banisters into my brain today. My mind a swirl of memories cleaning the empty rooms. Mums room especially, too many to count; where I learnt my primary school spellings lying in bed with her in the mornings, where Mum would hide to wrap Christmas presents, where Dad would bring a cup of tea to his wife each morning without fail, where Mr B and I told my parents we wanted to get married while Dad lounged in his underpants, where I put my wedding dress on... and where my dear Daddy died.

The removal men were frankly lovely. Very warm, friendly and funny. I was dubbed 'The gypsy' for driving around in a pickup truck. I liked it, we weren't on first name terms but 'gypsy' worked for all of us. By the time I left for the school run 6 rooms were starkers. Four hours later and the removal company had done their job. Tonight Mum sleeps in her half-way-house-flat for the first time, and tomorrow we say goodbye to No.36.