Mother’s Permission to Write!

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ImageI’ve cleaned and so, the house gleams. The floors are sparkling free of dirt and Golden Retriever hair, the carpets have been vigorously vacuumed, the windows like mirrors, the counter tops free from all clutter. I’ve played with my daughter, I’ve played with the dogs.

We walked in the nearby forest the living green-carpet crinkled and snapped beneath feet and paws. The sun kept us warm, no need for gloves today, our wellingtons squelched and slipped on a top layer of mud and when my daughter placed her ten year old palm into mine I felt like I was on top of the world.

We found shy baby primroses their heads poked through springy lime-green moss beneath the shelter of an elder Ash, a perfect home. She climbed along the length of a seventy year old ivy dressed tree nature provided her with the best assault course all around new challenges testing and tested by her. We looked into the huge hole the tree left when it fell a perfect Hobbit she said. Is Gandalf watching us from afar?

We walked through the grounds of an ancient monastery no monks now only mossy clad stones strewn throughout the corner of a perfect site where the peaceful air surrounded us like an elegantly textured envelope. We wondered what would happen to the fallen trees? Years of firewood she said.  I imagined our stove stuffed with the wood we looked at now. Next year we would be warm.

We entered a clearing a huge patch of square land with the sun on our backs we squinted and smiled and admired our beautiful dogs, our pals as they stretched in the damp grass, they tried hard to cool down their warm breaths climbed the air like smoke signals. Three magpies floated by-three for a girl.

We climbed over the aluminium gate and watched as our youngest pal found a dirty mud filled puddle she looked like she was dipped in chocolate, dip-dyed in the sacred sauce of the cocoa bean. No fire for her tonight! My little girl put her hand back into my forty year old palm and closed her eyes we walked hand in hand.  She picked up a long crooked stick and told me someday she’d be that tall. Someday, I said. No hurry, I said. We reached the stream at the foot of the sunny hill. The drill? Down to the water for a quick dip and clean before tea.

I watched as they played in the cold fresh water the smell of wild daffodils came through the air to greet me. Narcissus, how proud.  I watched the saplings along the stream sides their raised heads to the heavens a deep wish to grow. I watched my sapling splash and giggle in the Spring evening sun long legs wet, pink polka dot wellingtons keeping her agile feet dry. I raised my head to Heaven a silent prayer, thank you. The floors are clean the windows are sparkling the plants have all been watered the dinner is in the oven the stove is lighting and we are warm.

Is it time to write?

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