Picasso's "child with a dove"

was a painting chosen by my mother. It has hung on the wall in the living area ever since. 

No, of course it is not the original. It is supposed to be a very accurate reproduction. I am not sure why it is still there. It is a picture the Senior Cat did not particularly like and I feel much the same way about it.  It has never felt quite right to me although I am not sure why I feel like that.

Middle Cat asked me if I want to take it with me when I move. The answer is, "No." I doubt I would have wall space for anything other than the things I want the most. 

I considered the other things we have hanging and they mean more to me.  There are the two big pencil drawings of St Mary's church in Saffron Walden. The church itself is of no particular significance but they are original drawings done by a late friend. He was my art-lecturer in teacher training college.  He had no religious beliefs so they were an extraordinary subject for him to choose, especially as they give out a sense of calm and quiet. There is one of the exterior and another of the interior. The design of that church heavily influenced the design of St Peter's Cathedral which overlooks this city. I want to take those with me. Where I will find room for them I do not know but I hope there will be wall space somewhere.  

There is another pencil sketch, a portrait of me. This was also done by my friend. It is in the room which was the Senior Cat's bedroom. Middle Cat says I should take it with me. Perhaps. I cannot imagine hanging it anywhere people could actually see it. 

Then there is the water colour sea scape done by someone my maternal grandmother knew. I recognise it is "good" but, much as I love the sea, I don't think I want to live with it. I prefer the water colour done by Middle Cat. It shows a typical mid-north farm house under a stormy sky.  That will go back to her. One of her boys will hang it one day.

I prowl on. There is the sepia pen and ink drawing of the old woman which Middle Cat likes. I will be happy to hand that over because I think I would prefer to keep the small pen and ink drawing of John Knox's house in Edinburgh. It was done by my paternal great-grandfather when on leave from his ship and given to his then future wife.

And then, high above one of the bookcases, there is "the cat". It is long and thin. The cat has a knowing expression on his face as he looks as if he has just knocked down one precious plate and the other plate in the picture might be next.  This was done by a late friend too. Her mother gave it to me after the funeral. "Cat, she wanted you to have this."  It was unframed at the time and getting it framed was a nightmare. I need that picture. It says a lot to me.

But if I could keep just one thing I do not know if it would even be a painting or a drawing. I would want a photograph. Choosing which one would be hard, very hard. The wedding photograph of my parents? The wonderful photograph of the Senior Cat in gardening clothes? The photograph of my paternal grandfather's family when young? The one of my paternal grandmother's family on the front verandah of the farm house?

Or would it be the photograph of my paternal great-grandmother on her eighty-fifth birthday - because, without her, I would not be here to write this.