I knew I went to kindy there when Mum worked in the City, but haven’t really thought much more about it. It was only tonight that she painted a bit of a picture for me. She talked about how she would often have to fight her way through protesters (it was the 70’s) to pick me up. It created such an image in my mind of gentle, lovely Mum, elbowing hippies aside and growling what about her right to just get home with her daughter.
Back then she lived on the Northside, and would catch the train in with me, and in 15 minutes flat would have raced from Central Station to City Hall, dropped me, and raced down the hill to where she worked. No wonder she was so fit back then!
She also got me thinking about the guilt I feel when GG cries when I leave her at kindy, and how I really needn’t bother. I have absolutely no recollection of being left, even the day my finger got slammed in the big, heavy entrance door, and Mum had to race to the hospital carrying me gushing blood, to get it stitched. I still have the scar. I have no abandonment issues, am very close to Mum (who worked full time back then) and have yet to become a sociopath. So maybe, just maybe, I have nothing to worry about.
Apparently the kindy is still open until they close City Hall for refurbishment, I really should make a pilgrimage there...