It’s strange being back here, Back home. In a place where I scan the faces of people that I meet, Wondering if I knew them, Or went to school with one of their daughters or sons. In a place where people know my parents, My maiden name, The house I grew up in. It isContinueContinue reading “#3”
Tag Archives: life writing
#2
Jacob is going home today. And meanwhile, I am alone in this big old house, tiptoeing around the sleeping beast of my writing, picking at its edges, seeing if I still know it, still feel it. there are no babies, no cries or moans to distract me, just my cold toes on the wooden floor, ContinueContinue reading “#2”
July Thunder
We are at playgroup; the last of term in a heatwave. The grass has turned to straw, and the children run about in their swimming costumes. The colour goes out from the sky though, and there is a clap of thunder that makes us all jump. The rain falls on us like God is pouringContinueContinue reading “July Thunder”
elisabeth pike 