13 Comments
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Susie Mawhinney's avatar

Brilliantly done Matt, I still have an enamel sink, as did my father. The uses of both were and are numerous and mundane. You have reminded me of his last days... his use of a receptacle not dissimilar in both colour and bodily evacuations. We are touched by life, it is not always beautiful.

K.C. Knouse's avatar

Your rich descriptive language brings inanimate objects to life, Matt. What a treat to read this piece. I remember copying my father when I was a young boy.

Matt Inwood's avatar

Thank you, Ken. Appreciate you reading so closely.

Anne Briscoe's avatar

Writing like this is why I came to substack, thank you for sharing this beautifully faceted memory that is evoking so many unrelated ones of mine!

Matt Inwood's avatar

I read somewhere a few days ago that the writing that moves us most is that which we instinctively feel like we could have written or lived ourselves. Thank you for reading so generously, Anne.

Ambermoggie's avatar

Power of memory that never fades and brought forward with words from within

Vanilla Black's avatar

Very lovely Matt, and I forgot about the old enamel sinks.

Matt Inwood's avatar

Fashionable before they were fashionable!

Sharron Bassano's avatar

This description made me uncomfortable-- squeamish, even. As was intended. It perfectly exemplifies the glorification of "an object or a moment of squalor or tragedy or beauty in order to metaphorise a memory into some larger truth, convenience or story." Beautiful work, Matt.

Matt Inwood's avatar

Thank you, Sharron. x

JoJo Thomson's avatar

Such powerful writing Matt x

Matt Inwood's avatar

Thank you, JoJo. x