This morning, before 8 a.m., Bess and I took our morning stroll. We walked along the road, which has flattish fields along it on both sides and leads from our village towards Tregaron. I looked across those flat fields and, suddenly, a thought came into my head: “I live in the country!”. I even said it to doggy Bess.
For a few decades now, I’ve been aware that I live in this precious countryside. But, somehow today, with the low, early-morning sun shining in a cloudless sky, I realised it yet again. And I wondered why.
It was because, for some reason, those green fields reminded me of a few holidays my Mom took me on to a place called Shrawley in Worcestershire. She was invited there by some friends living not far from our home in Dunstall Road, Wolverhampton. My Dad had to stay behind to work and earn money to keep our little Family going.
As a lad of junior-school age and having been brought up in industrialised Wolverhampton, I thought the fields around that little village were beautiful. They have stayed – most of the time unnoticed – in my memory for nigh on seventy years! And this morning’s sun-filled Welsh fields brought that remembrance – and all the love of those days – back to me.
I have masses of lovely memories from my past, most of them of being in places with people I love and have loved and who love and have loved me. To build such a “storehouse of comfort” has helped me many a time to get through difficulties in my life.
I had loving parents: they loved each other and they loved me. And I have been blessed with a wife who loves me as I love her. We love our little Family, too.