The things in my house can become part of the furniture.
Some of them are the furniture.
I see, but don’t see, that picture on the fridge every day. I certainly don’t remember the work that went into it on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
Yesterday I was opening the bathroom cupboard, and for once I looked properly at the sticker.
Its back reflects neatly on the mirror-door. It’s faded: once bright colours muted.
But I can still remember the day we got it: when my husband’s daughter was in Primary school, and they had an open morning for parents. Mr HB and I both went, and we got the sticker which says ‘Good try,’ for participating in one of the games.
It was so many years ago that the sticker is part of the furniture, holding the memory in place.