Yesterday Jamie and I went up to my parents' house for the day. To let Phil get stuck into the renovations without having to worry about Jamie's sleep times or making too much noise and startling the baby.
Mum and Dad have lived in the same house all their married life. I grew up in that house. (Just a bit of background.) So, anyway, there I was, sitting on their lounge, feeding Jamie. I was in that drowsy state you get to when you're breastfeeding (something to do with the hormones, they tell me). Mum and Dad had gone out to do some shopping, so it was lovely and quiet. The pot-belly stove was going and it was cosy warm. And the cd player in the corner was playing softly. On a random shuffle of Mum and Dad's cd selection. A song came on. A Marty Robbins song. I have no idea of the title but it starts off:
"Out in the West Texas town of El Paso
I fell in love with a Mexican girl..."
Do you know it, lol? (Yes, I grew up on country music - oh, that's right, you already know about my upbringing on Johnny Cash from an earlier post, don't you?)
Well, anyway, as I sat there daydreaming, the leather l0unge transformed into a retro cream vinyl couch with berber cushions, the cd player morphed into a record player and I was transported back 30 years. I was kneeling in the loungeroom, in front of the record player, listening to records. I could even smell the smell - a plastic-y, cardboard-y smell. What was that smell? Was it the smell of the album covers? Was it the smell of the LPs? I don't know. I can still smell it. The smell of my childhood.
And as I sat there listening, in my childhood home with my own child now cuddled up against me, I felt a peaceful sense of contentment settle over me. Unspeakable contentment. Going up to Mum and Dad's always has that effect on me. I was blessed with two absolutely loving parents who would do anything for my sister and me. Thanks Mum and Dad!