When I was 11, my dream job was...

This past month has been a real nostalgic walk down memory lane!

I helped my mom to pack up her home - my childhood home - and move down to the Cape. It has been a longstanding dream, a mountain-hike-in-progress, finally come to climactic life! Emotional? Yes. Moving always is! But healthy and happy in so many ways.

While sorting through old childhood stuff, I came across an old school workbook from when I was 11 or 12. In this exercise, we had to answer a few questions — when were you born; colour of your hair; your favourite meals… The one that really caught my attention (and knocked my socks off!): Your future occupation.

Now, I have absolutely no memory of ever wanting to be an artist when I grow up. In fact, I’ve written about it quite a few times! To my great embarrassment, within this 20-something year old workbook, I had stumbled upon written proof that my previous claims were outright LIES!!!

There, in my best Sunday cursive handwriting: Actress, artist.

Firstly, I wish I knew what happened to that handwriting… All that is left is an undecipherable chicken-scratch. Secondly, wait - WHAT?! My fleeting aspirations to become an actress I can remember very well. I still occasionally fantasise about a little side-line career on a humble stage somewhere. But an artist? No! Never!

I read and reread my own words, gasped, and called for my mom, who was packing up things in a different room. “No! Never!”, she exclaimed when I showed her the book.

“I’ll have to write a blog about this and confess my lie!”, I said. We had a good laugh about it, made some tea and went back to packing our past into boxes, soon to be moved to the future.