Mill on the FlossThe mind is a power thing, isn’t it. It thinks and stores memories but do we know how it works, I for one, don’t. In any form of art, we are use our thoughts and memories to create things that don’t exist outside our heads, until we put it into words, carve it in stone or wood or paint it. Yet as we age so the borders between what’s real and what are thoughts and memories blur.

Yesterday afternoon when my husband arrived home from work we went to see my poor old Mum. She has to have 24 hour care. With all the bad weather we haven’t been able to take her out as we normally do so she can enjoy the fresh air, see the changes in the seasons and buy things from the local shops. Sunday with its bright blue sky and warm sunshine was brilliant and the change in her was amazing as she seemed to come alive.
Her body has given up on her, and, at times to us, her mind becomes muddled though she still seems knows who I am, but not my husband. Yesterday, she kept telling us that the Mill where we once lived wasn’t there anymore. I kept telling her it was, but she didn’t seem to understand. Whether it was because she had seen the floods on the news and thought of how it uses to flood when we lived there, I wasn’t sure.

This morning while out walking with my friend Ana I was talking about my Mum and her insistent about the mill not being there anymore, when I suddenly remembered that Mum shocked me a few years when she told me she had read the book the ‘Mill on the Floss.’

Suddenly I understood. With everyone talking about the floods and me chatting to her about the mill where I grew up in my mother’s mind maybe everything came together for her as in the book ‘The Mill on the Floss’ the building was swept away.

At the moment, I can’t seem to stay focused on my writing. I hate it when this happens and I’m beginning to think it’s because my house needs a clean. Its just getting dusty really but it plays on my mind.
Clean house and a sorted mind…
Once everything is in its right place I can stay focused on my writing again, so if I can’t settle today, I shall get busy with some cleaning.

Oh and here’s a link to the mill where I grew up, and yes it is still there, but not as we knew it.

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2 thoughts on “A Figment of your Imagination

  1. Wonderful. I enjoyed reading your article about your Mum and the Mill. That sounds like it would make a great story some day. Again, I find myself like you. Things have to be just so, or I cannot concentrate on my writing. I’ve been very unsettled and unfocused since I moved in with one of my daughters. I gave up a lot of things to come here and start over. I had been falling and injuring myself one time too many when I lived in Oregon. I wanted to be near my grandchildren as they are now having families of their own. And to stay safe, and not be lonely, my precious cat, Gretchen, and I have a room in the house of my daughter, Paula and her husband, Stephen. With all that you’d think I could focus on my writing, but there are so many delightful distractions now. With our weather this winter, unusual for southern Illinois, I’ve stayed in the house for several weeks. My new car sits in the carport. But ice and snow and fear of falling don’t mix. I went out to diner Friday night with the kids and had a wonderful time. We had had the worst snow storm ever that day, but my son-in-law was determined that Paula and I were going to have a nice evening out on Valentine’s Day. We even stopped for hot fudge sundaes on the way home. A very frigid night, but the ice cream, the scenery, and the fresh-frigid air was wonderful. We are in the middle of an ice storm now. All our pretty snow will melt. I won’t leave the house again on my own until the snow and ice are gone. Silly, isn’t it? Your article reminded me of my mom in a small way. She passed away not long before I made the decision to move. It should be fun to get old but it isn’t really. Sorry, I just keep chatting away.

  2. Hello Dorothy Thank you for dropping by. Please chat away. I must be hard leaving a house with so many memories behind for somewhere which is quite ‘your’ home, and whole house for just a room. I can understand not wanting to be on your own too after having fallen once too often. My mum was the same. My home is too small and we only have a bathroom upstairs so mum couldn’t come to ours.

    We know mum is well looked after where she is and we try to take her out every time we go to see her. At one time we could take her in the car, so we could visit places like the Mill for her birthday as there is a café in what was our front room, but Mum can’t cope with fast movement. It was awful, Dorothy. She kept scream she was falling, so it was something else we couldn’t do together.

    It just sad that in the end we as humans lose even our memories. At the moment, I’m pleased that Mum still know who I am. Small comfort at least.

    I’m sure I will get my mojo back as soon as I get dusting but with dry and warmer days the garden will start calling next. 🙂 Please drop by and chat again soon. Best wishes.

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