Let the write ones in
by psychedelicpineapples
I think I was born to be a writer. At the risk of sounding like one of those people who claim to have been able to dance before they could walk or sing before they could talk, I am almost certain that I was reading before I could read. The difference is I have witnessed actual evidence that my aforementioned statement is accurate.
My evidence is a video taken my late maternal grandfather during a visit by him and my grandmother when I was about five years old and my younger sister five months old. A couple of months ago the VHS cassette (these were the early 1990’s: the days before DVDs and Blue-Ray, etc) resurfaced and, still being in possession of a video machine, I decided to relive my formative years. The video was incredibly difficult to watch for several reasons; a.) I spent the majority of the time cringing upon the realisation that I was an incredibly pretentious child who was seemingly fond of adopting a Queen-of-England posh British accent (which, to deliver some context, makes little sense considering the majority of my family is South African); b.) the entire home movie is narrated by my late grandfather, who had a larger-than-life personality that we still yearn for a decade after his untimely passing; and c.) it was the 90’s and we all looked horrendous: my mom had an absolutely colossal perm, my general ‘look’ included really colourful-in-a-very-bad-clashing-way jumpers and I’m pretty sure at one point I glimpsed my dad wearing hot pants.
Nevertheless, my granddad managed to capture, on camera, me, at the age of five, reading a book to my baby sister. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t actually reading the words on the page but I definitely embroidered an elaborate story using the illustrations. Which I think is fairly impressive for a five-year-old. And I would like to believe that moment captured the beginning of my enduring creative eccentricity. I haven’t stopped creating stories since. At least now I can write them down. J
Another proud moment came during a later scene in the home video, filmed at my pre-primary school, revealing my vast artistic endeavours. Our task was to paint anything we desired on the walls outside our classrooms. I painted a mermaid seeing as I was fully into mythical sea creatures at that point in my life (I also really enjoyed the idea of talking dolphins). The teachers were so impressed with my painting I was chosen to paint another mermaid on a different building in the pre-primary. Unfortunately, my artistic talents haven’t matured since then.
Your little adventure made me think about my own grandfather, who passed away two years ago.
Coincidentally, he’s been my own babysitter (and even adult-sitter, I confess) and he is now dearly missed.
He taught me that good stories are the best heart – warming sheets you can find, and I know for sure that his stories were the first seeds of my writing desire.
Thanks for this post, memories are flowing right now and I can’t help but smiling.
I’ve no proof on tape, but I’ve always been told that a five year old me was constantly “reading” coloured books to my grandfather.
I’m so glad that you liked the post and thank you for the comment. I’m pleased to find that I’m not the only one who was ‘reading’ at the age of five. I just wish that everyone could share my love of reading (and writing). The best memories are those that catch you off guard and make you smile unexpectedly, I always find.
This post was, for lack of a better adjective, AWESOME! (insert smiley face). I share your sentiments in being able to ‘read before I could read’; My mom always reminds me of when I nagged her constantly to teach me to read before I started grade 1 (sub A, haha), and I remember trying to read everything from toilet paper labels (true story) to board game instructions. When I finally matured enough to be allowed into grade 1, I remember reading to the other kids when the teacher had more pressing matters to attend to, such as coffee breaks.
Anyway, just wanted to let you know that I really liked your post, and a simple click of the ‘like’ button wasn’t enough to express my appreciation.