The other day my daughter and I assisted my mother in checking out the attic at her house.
It is my childhood home and of course there's a lot there that brings back fond memories from
a happy childhood.
Just climbing the ladder, poking my head through the small opening through the ceiling to the attic, the short thrill when opening the hatch just above my head not knowing if anything would come falling down on me, the smell of old cartoons and school books that are kept there, - it brought me right back
to way back when.
My daughter followed enthusiastically, she has a strong nostalgic string in her as well, and is interested in everything I had when I was little.
We found this bright red hand bag that I'm not sure wether was mine or one of my sisters'.
My daughter fell completely in love with it
and she was allowed to take it home with her.