My self and the brother Dave Kenny This photo was taken, after Deirdre , the Sister, mysteriously slipped off the sideboard and out of the pic , for the 3rd time that day, I believe….😳 she was 18mths old I think! 😳 and 2 or 3 years before the Noddy book incident, (my favourite book) where my “innocent brother” scarred me for life , by hurling it at my face , he says he was running for his life , he was…. after the event .. (Sidenote: Have Noddy and Big Ears been cancelled ?)

I found this yesterday , as I was reminiscing over our Childhood and going through some of Mums photos…. and after I heard of the passing of the neighbour across the road, in Glenageary, Kevin Beegan.

He was a stable figure on the road growing up, always lovely to everyone, don’t remember him ever cross……

We lost The Hamiltons , all of them, now…Andrew (Hammy) will never be forgotten. Peter and Paul Manning, tragically and shockingly last year , they were next door to the Beegans , and even though the Mannings are gone for a long time, it has always remained, the Mannings house…. with my memories of flashlights, at dusk to the bedroom windows, with our made up morse code… 🙂 then we lost Mum and now Kevin, a few years ago Tony OBrien, Mrs Doyle on Hillcourt Rd, Mr Kennedy on the corner, (still the Kennedys house, even though the Lees are there forever at this stage…. :-). The list goes on…our lifelong next door neighbours , who are still our close friends and the house will always be the O Briens. When Mr O Brien passed , it was the loss of a family member , as we’d been in and out of each others houses, for our entire childhood years…..even though they are all far flung, they are still our family….

Now there are young kids, in that house that are a daily reminder of our childhood screeches and screams.

That is a lovely sound that accompanies us , as we empty our memories into boxes and pass cuddly toys over the wall , all found in boxes , about the place …..

This might not resonate with a generation of renters and families who move around , these days, but these are families who stayed , our own home was occupied by us for 55 years, always there, always a place to run to , should you need it….and the people who were our neighbours growing up, are still well remembered.

Seems our childhood is shrinking into History, at a pace , like never before….packing up a life and lives , is very, very hard….it’s not just their life, Its another part of yours…

I watch all the homes that we grew up with, being sold and demolished, for a more Dermot Bannon look and I can’t help feeling, I am saying goodbye, over and over again, and more frequently… change comes, no matter what ….best to flow through it, than try to stop it…. or so they say! Somedays it’s just not possible, to “breathe through it”….

All the roads, around us were connected, through schools, or playing on the road up to tea time , when we would all scatter , or walking to Robinsons Newsagents, for sweets and hanging out on the lanes, ……. we remember everyone, at least I do and we feel the collective loss like a distant aunt, or an uncle on the passing of a neighbourly family member.

We all hung out, we were all watched over by the mammys and daddys, roared at when necessary , the hot tar that glued the road concrete together, wiped off our knees with a licky wet tissue by the road mammys , we played kick the can, Rover Red Rover, we fought, cried, scraped knees, made up, went to school together and still stay in touch, one way or another .. Distantly through mutual friends , through likes on facebook, or as it is now , a nod at a funeral….

The memory of all the neighbours new and old who came out and stood outside their houses , some who didn’t live there anymore , still came and stood and turned up, to say goodbye , as we drove by , with Mum on her final call …. This stays with me as a real goodbye, to the past as my youth flashed before my eyes in the faces of our road…. an acknowledgement of our childhood, our collective past experiences and the passage of Father time

One road away another neighbour passed recently , Mr Thompson.

I only heard about it , because the local Estate agent mentioned it, but I was still touched by it, as another thinning of my past…..it doesn’t matter how old we are, we never forget our childhood friends and neighbours , the experience we shared .

We are always our parents babies … Never too old to scold ….They are our anchor to the World. Their passing leaving you the adult in the room , and the feeling that you’re not quite ready to adult , yet..

The passing of time seems so slow, when you are kids and then all of a sudden you see everyone leaving and feel their loss, their families pain , even if you don’t see them anymore. #lifeanddeath it comes to us all eventually , which may sound twee, but when it does, it hits hard. The collective silent support, the knowing…. becomes more important than you know, a glue of sorts….

♥️to the past which is now very present♥️