upstairs

This afternoon, just before my chiropractor appointment, we visited my Gran. She is 98 and now lives downstairs after old-age prevented her from climbing the stairs many summers ago. She hasn't seen 'upstairs' for almost 12 years.

With the aid of my Nikon and Powerbook I photographed every nook and cranny, every doorway, every bed, dressing table and artifact. She then sat, a tad teary-eyed, looking at the photos on my laptop going through the collection of memories stored up there.

Little things like the old empty perfume bottles on her dressing table, the doilies on her bedside chest bought whilst on a day-trip to somewhere-or-other, the way the rug by the door still has that kink at the edge where the door catches it.

This photo is an old one of her late brother, (my 'Uncle Reg'), and his wife (my 'Auntie Gwlad'). She had forgotten it was there resting on the mantlepiece in one of her spare bedrooms. When I was iccle i remember him doing this amazing magic trick with a 50pence piece, making it vanish through a table and into his trouser pocket. A crap trick now I'm older but an ace one when I was 5.

As I left she held my hand in that special way she always does, and thanked me. Apparently she thanked my mum afterwards too, for keeping 'upstairs' so clean and tidy and everything in place.

She loved it, and it made my day too.