Monday, 3 August 2015


Today was a dark day. No it's ok, I'm really just referring to the weather. I had the lights on in my big-windowed rooms at 1 o'clock in the afternoon. But I must say, a dark day doesn't help the mood, especially if you're tipping in that direction anyway, and a little sadness whirled around the house with the wind and crept in the cracks.

Esther spent a long time sitting quietly on the sofa at kindy this morning, while I obliviously went shopping for socks, and I got a call to say her temperature was rising and her energy levels were dropping. I flew in to pick her up, forgetting my plans for the day, and wrapped her up in my arms while little tears filled her eyes. She fluctuated over the rest of the day, mostly chirpy and chatty, eating plenty, and only crashing out at the end of the afternoon.

I was reminded again of a comment I read from a young widow once, about how good it is to be able to nurse a loved one back to health. For me, today was more of a reminder about how lucky I am that my children are so healthy and well. That hot skin and tear filled eyes are manageable and fleeting. That she can chatter to me all day and want to help with everything and I can't get anything done... and it doesn't matter, because she is here and she is well and she is so full of life.

I have thought of others today, and been reminded more of this. I've remembered that I can fill my arms with my children every single day and wow, that is so precious. I've remembered a young mum on my mind who is watching her child begin an extraordinary battle which she is going to win, but it won't be fleeting, and many days it will feel far from manageable. I've learnt of another mum fighting her own battle while a stack of small lives depend on her.

In between listening to the chatter and the wind, I've heard over and over the sadness of the beautiful California Girl and the joy of the dance-inducing Love of Mine. I've snatched a few moments with a book that takes me back to walking the cold streets of Prague at Christmas, and read magical words such as this, "she brought with her the faint scent of cinnamon and nutmeg, as if she had been freshly baked that morning and delivered warm and fragrant." (Alyson Richman, The Lost Wife)


Jeepers. I think tomorrow I'll just go to the gym and pay some bills.

And yes we baked cake today. Chocolate cake with Summer's glucose strawberry jam, Mum's sweet, buttery mock cream, and rice syrup & cocoa icing.                      Does all that distract you from what the heck happened to my photography skills?

The wee poppet's sleeping position of choice. And sleeping companion of choice, of course.