Would you still write if no one listened?
I read somewhere that over 6.5 million people blog, double that if you include social media. Most of us are woman. What are we doing, why are we doing it?
WordPress made me think about this recently whilst setting goals I found it uncomfortable, it made me admit I wanted to be heard, that I wanted more followers; I am actually socially shy and private, so I was confused. My answers showed a path that I had not intended.
Cat plays her throat trumpet announcing she will be sharing my space for a while. I am full of questions and rub under her chin as I silently try to answer them. The pressure confuses her body and her back leg lifts, performing a scratching action midair. That happens to the dog sometimes, I wonder if the pressure of my words have any impact, do they cause an action somewhere else. Continue reading “Campfire Stories”
I see you have a pile of chips, I’m sure you can not finish them.
Continue reading “Jokes and Ditties”
Parenting – 18 words
It’s hard being a parent. Training is given informally as we grow, good and bad examples are set, it’s rather a sloppy affair. Society dictates ever changing rules, standards constantly evolve so we might measure our attempts.
Congratulate Commiserate Compare
Continue reading “Advice Safe”
I look out, the windows need cleaning.
Disconnected, I contemplate the work.
She reaches in, her bright fingers search
For something to cling to,
A secret place to hide her light.
Her pink body already sinking,
I wonder why she fights so hard.
Night always comes, he wins Continue reading “Campfire Stories”
Can you see what I see?
There is a walkway where I live. At some point, the Council decided to make a coastal path over large pipes, by dumping tonnes of concrete, over the lot, or so I have been told. It connects the bays along the foot of sandstone cliffs, who are forever moaning and crying down their rock tears. If you beware the sadness of the stones and do not mind being splashed by the sea, with guile and good timing, you can make it, from one plop of sand to the next even at the highest of tides. Today, a weekend morning, a high tide, exceptional weather, and the excitement of the official start of summer created an ant line of us along this thin piece of concrete. Happy dogs, bare legs and the smell of sun cream moved along the path with alarming efficiency. Did anyone see what I saw?
Continue reading “Advice safe”
A walk with a snake beneath my feet
There is a beautiful path I take regularly, it carries me past a tall tree, whose trunk has split in the growing. It flicks out of the earth like the tongue of a giant serpent, tines spread wide, to collect the chemicals of my existence. Sometimes I daydream that the mighty head with rise out of the ground and the creature lurking below will paralyse me with fear and eat my dog. I walk a little quicker on these broody dark days. Sometimes I just think about what to cook for dinner and hardly notice the trunk, when the sun shines bright, my crowded mind is filled with marshmallows and gravy.
Today I am standing under the tree looking up. It is the end of a bright blue sky day and I have just watched two Rosellas scramble up from the grass path before me. They chatter now, among the leaves, avoiding my gaze, waiting for me to go. My dog is busy with a smaller one of his kind further back along the path, I have time. The pair are annoyed with me, they want to eat the grass seed, I want to see their bright feathers, the dog is still sniffing, there is a standoff. I can not see the birds among the cones and glare of the sun. Continue reading “The Advice Safe”
When glass gets broken
I am reading a note, in my husband’s thin blue handwriting, it starts.
- ask about prescription
- appointment at doctors?
- sick days?
I feel the familiar prickly sting start at the back of my eyes, I do not want to cry so I put his list back down on the table by the bed and continue to hoover. My husband is in the shower and I have a few minutes to clean up a little, take away old flowers, change the sheets and suck away crumbs. He can not tolerate the noise, so I work quickly. The water stops and I turn the hoover off and hit the button that pulls back the chord. The black line pulls the plug back quickly, the machine and I feel we should not be here. I pull the door shut quietly and wince at the loud click of the lock as I leave. I do not want him to see how upset I am. Continue reading “Campfire Stories”