That girl in the rain? That was me.

I've come to realize that I have had a childhood. Not an interesting one that I can use to fill short story collections with witty prose, but a more classic one, a more sentimental, even strange, childhood. Not tear-jerking enough, perhaps, to sell as a poignant memoir, but I have a lot of memories. (Of course, that's always true. Me and my freakish memory.)

Hoo. Almost lost my cell phone, then found it right in front of me. Okay, back to the blog.

I've also come to realize how few children these days have an idyllic childhood. Even those who aren't living in slums or fleeing war troops are lacking in this, somehow. What I remember most fondly from say, five years ago, is all the stuff I used to do with my dad. (Mums are the ones who have all the highs and lows. For dads, the graph is pretty regular.) I remember him winding the moon, and singing green grow the rushes, and stuff like that. Well, my dad was a lot busier when Tommy came along, but Tom will also remember those things. I pretty much filled that role. Whereas all I've done for Emma is taught her to play chess. I'm busier too.

I love Piccardy thirds. You know how at the end of a minor piece, sometimes, it will resolve to a major chord? If I had a piano I'd show you what I mean. It's one of those things that can make me cry. I like how depressing and depressed can suddenly become something completely Else...I find it so very uplifting.

So there's today. Well, it's not over yet, and I'm not finished writing. I have guitar now. My first soccer game is Saturday, we have that ceremony on Sunday, and the concert is tomorrow.

Set the controls for the heart of the sun.

I should be back after guitar, though, so I won't close it off. I have so much more to say....