By Sian Ann Bessey, Author of A Kingdom to Claim
Looking back on my childhood memories is a little like viewing the world through a kaleidoscope. Do you remember those timeless toys? You’d look into a tube through a tiny hole and see a beautiful pattern of colors. And then, with one small twist of the tube, all the colors and shapes would move to create something equally beautiful but totally different. In a similar way, as I grow older, my perspective shifts, and I’m given the opportunity to view my memories in completely new ways.
One of the most common examples of this occurs when I think back on events that once seemed terrible but now make me laugh—like the time I pushed my little brother down the stairs in a box because we both wanted to know how fast he’d go. The memory of the scolding my parents gave us afterward lingered long enough to prevent us from ever trying that experiment again. Now, we laugh hysterically over it. Then there were the years my parents regularly picked up Sister Smith for church. Sister Smith was a sweet old lady who must have been under the impression that church attire included wearing a cloud of cloying perfume. Trapped in the car with her for over half an hour every Sunday, my brother and I were sure we’d die of asphyxiation before we arrived. Now (because we survived), we see it as yet another example of our parents’ many acts of kindness.
There are also memories of things that once seemed commonplace but now seem special. Remembering how soft my grandmother’s hands were and the way my grandfather used to let me “help” him do the daily crossword puzzle in the newspaper have gone from being normal recollections to being some of my most cherished. Cheering for my father as he consistently crossed the finish line first in the fathers’ races at my primary school field days, or helping my mother hang long rows of washed nappies on the line when my brother and sister were babies, were activities that my own children and grandchildren will never experience. And that makes those simple memories all the more precious.
For some events, particularly holidays, I’ve tried to continue the traditions of my childhood with my own children and grandchildren. Doing so has helped me relive memories while creating new ones for the next generations. It’s yet another shift in the kaleidoscope. Of course, there are some holidays, like Boxing Day, St. David’s Day, and Guy Fawkes Night, that are specific to my Welsh upbringing. Those days are a little harder to recreate in the US, where the activities are out of context. But maybe this year, Guy Fawkes Night will be different.
My memories of Guy Fawkes Night include bundling up in warm clothes and gathering with friends, family, and neighbors in front of a huge bonfire. We held sparklers, watched fireworks, and ate toffee apples and donuts. Not once during the Guy Fawkes Night celebrations of my youth did I imagine writing a book about Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators. But my research for A Time Traveler’s Masquerade has allowed me to look at those childhood memories in a completely new way. Guy Fawkes Night is no longer simply a fun-filled evening with warm food and fireworks. I now recognize that it’s a day to reflect on the series of miracles that saved countless lives, historic buildings, and the government itself.
Perhaps it’s the knowledge that I can’t call people or events back that increases the value of my childhood recollections. I’m grateful for the memories that anchor my life and for occasional shifts in the kaleidoscope that enable me to see things in a new light. I’ve learned that a change in perspective can be a wonderful thing—especially when it enables me to apply lessons from the past or appreciate people in new and unanticipated ways.
A Kingdom to Claim: Aisley lost everything in a Viking attack. Now, working alongside the one man she trusts, she is ready to fight for her people—and for love.
Sian Ann Bessey was born in Cambridge, England, and grew up on the island of Anglesey off the coast of North Wales. She left her homeland to attend university in the United States, where she earned a bachelor’s degree in communications, with a minor in English. She is a USA Today best-selling author.
Sian and her husband, Kent, are the parents of five children and the grandparents of four girls and two boys. They live in Idaho, and although Sian doesn’t have the opportunity to speak Welsh very often anymore, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch still rolls off her tongue.