I do remember being confined to bed, only leaving it to sit shakily while my clammy sheets were changed. I remember the waves of unpredictable heat that raced through my small frame, leaving me listless and tearful. Also, the uncontrollable coughing, retching, and the ever present white enamelled bowl, perched ominously on a nearby chair.
I remember how the house felt, on a day when I should have been at school. The daily chores, that unfolded like hopeful auditions, and the sounds of innocuous invasion. A milk float, hauling to a hum, its tinkling load running rings along the the unmade roads around about. Barely audible passings of the day merged with birdsong, quickly evaporating after the effort of squeezing through a cracked window.
A snowscape by Speckly Woo, created during a moment of respite.