The Big Move

On the 5th October 1937 the doctor delivered me to my parent’s home in his little black suitcase. Well, that’s what I was told. My school friends had different stories, like the stork flying downwards from the sky carrying a little baby in his beak and another friend was told she was found under a cabbage patch.

As hard as I try to remember my arrival nothing comes to mind. The furthest back I remember was when I was about four years old. It was Second World War time and my father was in the Royal New Zealand Navy. Most of my young childhood he was away on a ship overseas defending his country.  

My mother decided it was would be a good idea for her and me to move in with her parents.I don’t remember anything about the rented house we moved from but I clearly remember our move into my grandparent’s  home. The scene never erased from my mind is my Grandfather holding a sack upside down and tipping out my beloved toys on to the floor saying.

‘This is your room my precious granddaughter.’