here in the evening, emptied out. here I am, sitting on the carpet, the debris of the day strewn around me like a fox has been at a rubbish bag. the baby squirms and wriggles on the sofa; he is not yet settled. I have not yet washed up, had a cup of tea, hadContinueContinue reading “Enough is enough”
Tag Archives: memoir
They are like jewels
They are like jewels, these people, They shine in a room of closed off doors. At toddler group, in a rowdy room of children’s choruses, I see a mother start to cry. I think her child has hurt her and it has suddenly all become too much, but I do not know really, I amContinueContinue reading “They are like jewels”
Crying in Public Places
This time it is me again, in a room of friends or a room of strangers. At the door of my son’s preschool when he shouts ‘don’t like preschool’ the whole way there, and leaps from the buggy board and runs off down the road, and I hand him over, howling and I have toContinueContinue reading “Crying in Public Places”
Happy
On a day where we thought it would rain incessantly, and it did not, we drove out to a garden centre and watched the electric blue fish dart around their tank and said ‘hello’ to Bobby the parrot, who having hopped down from his perch, was walking around, dragging his tail feathers, pecking people’s shoes. ContinueContinue reading “Happy”
A walk near Shere
‘Big, big muddy puddle!’ Sam said, over and over and he jumped in them until his shoes were wet through. Hail fell around us and the sky turned dark, but it felt good to be outside, even still. EDIT: This poem was eventually made into a poetry print. You can find it here. It alsoContinueContinue reading “A walk near Shere”
Weight
There’s something so liberating in the crash of the downpour outside, in the rush of the rain, the weight of it as it falls. We open the window and listen.
elisabeth pike 